I Like Dogs
Littlle P, my 10-pound Dachshund smoothie, can somehow hear their itty bitty feet scampering around in the dewy grass at first sunlight. That's what I imagine.
He's suddenly alert, leaps with intent from my bed where his brown, velvety body spent the last several hours peeled to my thigh, and pushes his nose up against the bedroom double doors leading to the lanai. Biological need and even food (the green can of Solid Gold, stinky Beef Tripe) come second.
P's tail has a slow, ominous wiggle. The Gecko Lizards are somewhere about. Death will soon be in the air.
They are the cutest little things. We Americans who ever turned on a television know them intimately because the smiling green spokes-reptile for Geico Insurance is an animated gecko with a cute Aussie accent.
For P, they are merely items for torture, murder and, sometimes, a snack which leaves a mere tail for mommy to clean up.
The Butcher flies out the screen door and instantly and silently disappears behind thick and fragrant shrubbery and plants. They do little to disguise the savagery and imminent death.
There are few nooks and crannies which P doesn't know. Their hiding places are merely traps for ambush. I've seen him snap them up, only their tails extending from his mouth, a chance to save them useless. If I call P, he's gone. If later he's slow to suck up the oh-so gross tripe, I know his belly has tasted gecko flesh.
He's ruthless and deadly. The little lizards are as cunning as a stone but they are incredibly quick (and, a favor of evolution, multiply like crazy).
P's guile and ingenuity amazes me. If one lizard specimen is out of reach several feet up the screen lanai wall, P will throw his head into the lower portion of the screen to knock the stunned gecko to the floor and into his snapping jaws. Perhaps my mind plays tricks but in the morning with the sun rising on the right side of the back yard, P hunts and makes his approach from the same side. In the evening with the sun setting in the west and the left side of the property, P attacks from that side. He's using the sun's position to blind the critters. Yes he is.
At night when he finds his favorite spot and pours his furry body next to my flesh and rests content, I can't help but think what he will dream and what he will anticipate at first light.
He's suddenly alert, leaps with intent from my bed where his brown, velvety body spent the last several hours peeled to my thigh, and pushes his nose up against the bedroom double doors leading to the lanai. Biological need and even food (the green can of Solid Gold, stinky Beef Tripe) come second.
P's tail has a slow, ominous wiggle. The Gecko Lizards are somewhere about. Death will soon be in the air.
They are the cutest little things. We Americans who ever turned on a television know them intimately because the smiling green spokes-reptile for Geico Insurance is an animated gecko with a cute Aussie accent.
For P, they are merely items for torture, murder and, sometimes, a snack which leaves a mere tail for mommy to clean up.
The Butcher flies out the screen door and instantly and silently disappears behind thick and fragrant shrubbery and plants. They do little to disguise the savagery and imminent death.
There are few nooks and crannies which P doesn't know. Their hiding places are merely traps for ambush. I've seen him snap them up, only their tails extending from his mouth, a chance to save them useless. If I call P, he's gone. If later he's slow to suck up the oh-so gross tripe, I know his belly has tasted gecko flesh.
He's ruthless and deadly. The little lizards are as cunning as a stone but they are incredibly quick (and, a favor of evolution, multiply like crazy).
P's guile and ingenuity amazes me. If one lizard specimen is out of reach several feet up the screen lanai wall, P will throw his head into the lower portion of the screen to knock the stunned gecko to the floor and into his snapping jaws. Perhaps my mind plays tricks but in the morning with the sun rising on the right side of the back yard, P hunts and makes his approach from the same side. In the evening with the sun setting in the west and the left side of the property, P attacks from that side. He's using the sun's position to blind the critters. Yes he is.
At night when he finds his favorite spot and pours his furry body next to my flesh and rests content, I can't help but think what he will dream and what he will anticipate at first light.
By:
Kathryn1985
Age:
26-30
,
Female
