It isn’t just some of our grandsons who attend Camp Grandad. There is also a canine unit. When it gets noisy around here, our bedroom, which is on the backside of the house, is a quiet place to take a breath. The room is restful, the view serene.
Usually.
Yesterday, Granddog Ivy quite suddenly became intrigued with gardening. We had no idea what inspired this sudden interest, but she viewed, sniffed, and pawed it from every angle for over two hours. The CSI Miami team could not have been more thorough.
I took pictures through the bedroom window. Not wanting to distract her, I didn’t use the flash.
Suddenly. . . the aha moment!
She nosed down and with a sudden quick motion, flung something up onto the slate path and jumped up after it.
What was it?
Don’t let it be a snake. PLEASE don’t let it be a snake. . . !
The hunter, relentless in her pursuit, had captured her fast-moving quarry!
I hope the squirrels were watching. We relocated the turtle outside the fence, but we’re not making any promises to the tree rats.
