who let the dogs out?

To look at them you wouldn’t think butter would melt in their mouths. They’re so pretty, so cuddly, so loving.

You’d never guess that lion hearts nest inside their curly chests.

Many’s the time I’ve come home to find dead chickens, birds or ducks in the yard. Or occasionally woken up to the unpleasant task of burying a wallaby or possum.

I’m not proud to say that the carnage count includes rats, mice, a goose and even a bandicoot.

While we try to keep our yard critter safe (poodles in – critters out) we sometimes fail. And you can be sure the poodles are there to rub that failure in our faces every time.

This is one aspect of larger dogs with a high prey drive that I dislike. I know its natural – they hunt. Its what they do. I have to accept it, I don’t have to like it. Especially when I’m the one finding and disposing of the bodies like an accomplice after the fact.
Neighbours see me out in the paddock with a shovel, looking furtively over my shoulder as I dispose of the evidence, and they worry if they need to be concerned for Wayne.
At least toy poodles didn’t have a chance of bringing down larger prey… a small bird, a mouse, a skink. But with standards the hole you have to dig is much bigger.

Up till recently, all bodies retrieved were intact. No blood, less evidence.

At least, I’d tell myself, they’re neat killers – one grab around the neck, a good shake and its curtains for the critter who had the misfortune to step inside our yard. No mess.

Very befitting a poodle.

Just the thing to be grateful for: intact corpses.

Except for one memorable occasion when I came home with a friend to find Romeo parading round the yard with a duck head in his mouth. The rest of the duck was still intact though… just minus the head…

Way to impress visitors.

So, you can imagine how disgusting it was to wake up on Sunday morning and find what looked, at first appearance, to be an intact dead pademelon, only to find its guts lying next to it. Outside its body. In a neat little bundle. Barely a mark on it. Like someone had carefully opened a birthday present.

Yup.

Disgusting.

Then, this morning, I woke up to find a single feather and some guts on the footpath.

Great.
I might be good at identifying animals, but even my abilities were stretched to identify this one from the inside out.
I think it was a native hen.
I have no idea how it got in the yard. The poodles leave things alone out in the paddock, but anything that comes in their yard is, literally, dead meat.
sigh.
z

4 thoughts on “who let the dogs out?

  1. You wrote this very well. I wonder why they don't eat their prey. My cats don't either. The mice they have caught indoors in the past are play things…something that caught their eye…something they stopped from moving, and when no longer moving, lose interest. Odd.

    Like

  2. Yep. Mine were always like that: its something to catch, then its broken, I don't want to play with it anymore. At least if they ate what they caught I'd be able to cut down on food bills! LOL

    Like

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