My hands are still shaking from the shock. They shouldn’t be. My dogs are hunting dogs. This used to happen all the time. The activity has reduced because they are older, slower.

I hesitate to write, only because I see the swarms of animal lovers all over the internet. And to be clear, I am one of them. But there are no predators left in suburbia. In short, there are more foods running around than there are eaters.

Maybe, almost 13, is a mixed breed. Her mom was a Catahoula. Brick, who just turned 12, was rejected by a backyard breeder. He is a purebred Catahoula. I adopted both from a rescue. They are amazing animals. Originally bred for hunting wild pig and bear, they are smart as all get out, with energy that never ends. They’ve kept me… awake.

I’ve been very pleased with their performance over the years. While several neighbors suffered a rat infestation, I did not. Gophers should have destroyed every plant I water, but that is Brick’s usual territory. He once dug a tunnel as fast as the gopher was running through it, got him before he made it to safety. On average he “relocates” about ten a year.

Maybe used to have squirrel duty, but after her bilateral FHO (removal of both hips) she just can’t run them down anymore. Yeah, she was that fast.

And it may sound like I’m bragging, but truly, they are fascinating to watch.  It’s like they have a playbook and run rehearsals after I’ve gone to bed. He zigs, she zags. She runs to the right, he runs to the left.  Is it instinct?  I don’t know, but they make an amazing team!

Between their ages and the trash-dumping neighbors’ departure reducing the volume of vermin, we haven’t hosted a full set of Gladiatorial Games in quite some time.

Until today.

I think my head-shaking, “of course,” amusement stems from the fact that I was walking the yard preparing to set odor to play “search.” A game I’ve played with them for most of their lives, often when it’s cold, wet, and dark, but they still need an outlet, I set odor throughout the house.

I’m thinking, there won’t be heat today. They both need to burn off some energy. I’ll use the yard, let them flex their instinct with room to run between sets, wear ‘em out a little…

Hmmm. I wonder how it is for the dog. Is it really stimulating?

Oh, look… a weed.

I’m bent, plucking this little green invader. I hear a rattle of rocks. Rocks do not rattle unless they are in distress.

I turn to see what has upset my rocks and catch a glimpse of something brown, soaring through the air.

I stand there watching. My brain is trying to process what is happening.

It’s Brick.

It’s a brown thing…

The brown thing is fighting back.

Oh my God. Brick got a squirrel.

I can’t do anything but watch.  If I interfere, then I’ll be left with the unpleasant task of dispatch.  He’s never laid teeth on a squirrel before, it’s like…  he doesn’t know what to do. 

Maybe would always snap their necks and end it instantly.  Brick is trying, but he keeps grabbing the wrong end.

Maybe’s hearing is all but gone, she’s probably standing guard at the front window, totally unaware that her assistance is required.

Do I call her? 

No, she shouldn’t partake. She will if I call her…  no, I don’t want to risk her injuring a leg.

Why is this taking so long!

Ok. He got it.  It’s done.

He turns and looks at me with confusion.

I have to praise him.  I have to tell him he’s a good boy. 

I approach him to give him pets but his ears drop into the “sad” position.

Does he hear my heart pounding against my chest?

I take him inside to wipe down his face and pay him with treats but he still seems distraught.

I open the Ring app to see what actually happened.

Brick is moseying along, several paces behind me. Now, as you’ve likely experienced yourself, or at least heard from other dog owners, when a dog finds a reward, he will return to that same place every single chance he gets for the rest of his life. Brick is no exception. He once found a mouse hiding in the fire pit…

Brick points his snooter toward the fire pit. He gives a sniffer. His ears go up, but before his brain can identify the scent, the scent launches in Brick’s direction. There is the briefest, tiniest recoil before instinct takes over and the mouth opens.

This, of course, adds to my amusement.  Brick was not looking for the squirrel.  Brick was not actively hunting. There was no chase, no intent. Brick was just doing his thing, following his human like an honorable sentry.  Sure, he is there to protect me from any foreign invaders, but he wasn’t actually expecting one to find him!

He’s here at my feet now, too close to the wheels of my chair.  Perhaps he’s sad that squirrels are Maybe’s job.  Perhaps his little heart is still pounding, too. 

I don’t guess either of us expected a squirrel to launch an assault before second breakfast.