January 7th, 2006


Someone Is Shooting

There's gunfire to the north; it's entirely possible, highly probable that someone's doing some bird hunting, or just some skeet shooting. That's no big deal, I've been known to do the same.


The Border Collie Bros sounded off. Now, overnight they usually live in a kennel, unless otherwise assigned duties. Sounding off normally inidicates one of two things. Either the neighbor's cows came over to visit (some holes in that fence, patched with barbed wire only and the younger heifer's often squeeze between strands), or their father, Michael, came over to visit Mamma Munch. Possibly three things (normally), the third being someone else.

So I got up to go check. They quieted down when I came out of the house. No cows. No visitors in cars. No Michael.

Then I heard something around the back of the house, and in turning scanned the kennel closer. There's Squrrel. There's Smudge. No Houdini. So I called him.

Around from the back side of the house comes running a Border Collie Bro, who tries to hide under my feet. While I'm standing. He's still trying to do this now, while I'm typing this. Hmm. I wonder if I now know something that happened to him on his Incredible Adventure, or if this is just confirmation that the excessive thunder that preceeded his Incredible Adventure is part of the cause for that.

At least he's still coming to find me. *G*
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