Yick. That is just gross. I am NOT letting you eat that.
The weather has been so mild this week that I'll often leave the back door open so that Knox can come in and out easily. I enjoy the breeze and fresh air, he enjoys the freedom. Win, win. This afternoon I noticed that it had been quite a while since he'd come inside. I peeked out the back window to find him in the exact same spot that he'd been an hour before: circling the base of one of the trees, peering up into the branches. I watched him for a few moments, trying to figure out what it was that he was tracking. Pretty soon, a grey squirrel scampered down the trunk, skittered and squeaked at Knox in the most wonderfully mocking and taunting way, and then was high among the branches again before Knox could do anything about it. Knox never wavered. He stayed at the base of that tree for another thirty minutes before I had to leave for YL leadership. I wished him luck, shut the back door and headed off.
When I came home from leadership, I opened the back door to let Knox in. He did his usual rush-right-by-Leslie-head straight for-Alpha (Jason) routine and then settled in his chair. I patted his head and inquired as to whether or not he caught the squirrel. As I headed out to the back porch to bring in his food and water bowls I jokingly said, "Ok, Knox, I hope I don't find a bloody carcass strewn all over the porch..."
Well. At least it wasn't bloody.