The nutria population around here is thinning…
Tonight I was walking Jesse sans leash, and after he did his bidness, he wouldn’t come back inside…something had caught his attention. I trudged on in without him, knowing he’d follow in soon…but he lingered. Finally I got irritated and hollered out the door for him to “COME IN!”. Right away he came trotting up the steps….with a giant, fully grown and fully dead nutria in his mouth.
I screamed (”Jesus Christ!”), and slammed the door on him, as he tried to nose his way inside with the creature in his mouth. Shouting the names of the Holy Family, as though I were a lapsed Catholic, I paced around trying to figure out what to do….couldn’t believe it. Finally I opened the door and let Jesse in…he had figured out that his “catch” was unwelcome. The dead swamp rat was lying right in front of my door in the light, so I grabbed a bag and a box. Bag over hand, I picked up the vile beast by the tail, put it in the box and carried out to the trash compactor. Sorry, mister nutria.
Later, I coaxed Jess out from under the coffee table and praised him for being a good hunter. I did this because he was so proud of his catch, and I know he was only trying to help provide for the family. He probably thought I’d cook that thing up in the pan and we’d have ourselves a lovely rat dinner.
Bless his little heart, it’s in his blood and his dna. He’s a good boy. I just hope he lets me do the shopping from now on…
