Wild side

You know me. I am a rustic and hardy type. I climb rocks and trails and run down slopes and jump in lakes. I even have been canoeing, though my Person insisted I not jump out and try walking on walking lily pads.

But I think my wildness got the better of me. I was trotting along, sniffing for scent marks and admiring the leaves for beginning their annual Finnefication (they are starting to turn a nice orangey red) and being thankful my own Finnefication does not require dropping to the ground and being covered by snow half the year (I just shed a little fur instead), when suddenly I smelled a wee smell and heard a wee sound and I Pounced!

I landed right on top of a chubby gray mole and knocked him out and made his elbow bleed. My Person grabbed my leash and dragged me off before I could lend further assistance to the mole by carrying him in my nice warm mouth for awhile.

At least I didn't hunt him down in an airplane and field dress him and brag about it. I was just being a dog and sometimes dogs are a little on the wild side.