The Wind in the Woods: Not A Happy Ending

I promise we will try not to visit only stories of demise for all of the cute little woodland creatures out here, but this time the White Husky really floored me. 

It was 5am and I had just stumbled into the barn after filling Old Man Taylor with wood.  Incidentally, does anyone know what a Scotch Pine Christmas tree smells like in a wood burner? Not evergreens and candy canes, my friends: it smells like burning marijuana fields. I'm sure my neighbors have called the DEA assuming we are the whitest part of a Mexican drug cartel, but I assure you that I was only trying to dispose of our Christmas tree in an eco-friendly and thrifty way. The sad part is I still have half of it to go: the whole thing will definitely not fit at once.

Back to the story:
I stumble into the barn, ready to take Gunnar for his morning walk, when he comes in through his dog door from the outside kennel with something rather large in his mouth. At this point I wake up fully, but don't want to accept what I'm seeing: my Husky/Pyrenees mix (or whatever he is!) has just walked through his dog door with yet another playmate--that's not moving.  I see huge hands and claws and can only envision it being a baby badger.  Then I remember Mr. H's nemeses in the yard, creating huge dirt mounds in our beautiful, lush, greenery: we really do have a pretty lawn here.  It is only marred up by numerous mole hills and nothing we do is getting rid of these rodents.

I distract Gunnar long enough for him to forget he has Morty the Mole in his mouth and I let him out of the kennel while I grab a shovel. I can't bring myself to pick up dead creatures yet, even with my gloves on. The shovel and Morty hang out in the workshop while I try to harness Gunnar for his walk without getting a sloppy kiss from him anywhere near my face!

I have always loved the tale of The Wind In The Willows with the cute little illustrated animals; sadly, the White Husky is removing them from the storybook one by one.  Besides that, how did he lure that mole into his cage and sit still long enough to fit his furry buddy into his mouth?

The Wind In The Willows, illustration 1983, by Philip Mendoza.



Gunnar's Hunting Statistics since arriving in Bluebird Hollow:

Snakes: 1
Mice: 2 (that I know of)
Moles: 1 (that I know of)
Dog Beds: 1

Broken down, that's Gunnar 3: Rodents 0. Pray that he does not start associating Chihuahuas with rodents.