Hazel killed another squirrel today.
We went down to the park and I got lazy running while she was off-leash. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a black streak racing through the pine trees, Hazel in pure squirrel-chasing form and before I could get to her, the awful pathetic squeals squirrels make when they're dying.
Yes, it is awful.
Absolutely horrifying really, like watching Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom but instead, at your genteel neighborhood park in Spokane Washington, a place one hardly connects with the ruthless circle of life.
This has only happened once before at the park and I’ve been paranoid that if it happened again, someone would be nearby.
Aaaaaand, yes.
This time, Hazel caught the squirrel about twenty feet away from a fragile-looking lady with her smallish dog that was properly leashed-up. The woman looked like someone who'd been told by a therapist to take calming, noonday walks to alleviate stress. A quick glance in her direction gave every indication we had just set her back a good six months.
“Bad Hazel! Bad dog!” I yelled loudly while approaching, trying to give some impression that I might be in control as she gave the squirrel one last shake. While snapping on her leash, I scanned the perimeter to see how to make a getaway when squad cars came screaming in to block off my escape with Cujo.
The squirrel lay prone on the pine needles and grass on the ground. I used the poo bag to pick up the squirrel by the tail and walked awkwardly to the garbage can nearby. Can’t believe this is happening I hope the woman doesn’t faint or call the police or the City for real And I can’t afford a lawsuit and who would get sued anyhow me or Hazel And I’m so done with lawyers And I’m never running with Hazel at the park ever again And will never give her a treat-treat ever again ever And why did we get a dog anyhow I wish we still just had Fluffy although everyone says cats have more germs than dogs I own an animal that kills squirrels I don’t think the Olmsted Brothers envisioned this when they platted out our lovely Cannon Hill Park And are we a normal family anyhow?
The woman hadn’t moved other than to whisk her dog off the ground and clutch it closely to her chest. She was making small gasping noises, the kind people make when they're shocked but also passing judgment. Head down, I turned and left the park as anonymously as is possible in broad daylight with an eager, lunging dog.
Maybe I was reading it all entirely wrong I considered on the short walk home. Maybe this was a curious, sturdy woman, frightened, but intrigued and curious. Maybe her therapist, instead of caution, had told her to grab some life while she still could. Eat! Love! Pray! Observe Death!
Finally home, I turned the handle of our front door and walked inside. Hazel, wiggling, expected a treat. I knelt down, “No Hazel, not today,” I said out loud. I felt bad as she had no idea what she'd done wrong. In her world, she'd done just what she was supposed to do. Dogs don't really get the upside-down rules of city-living. Do people. Do I? “I think you scared the wee of out of that lady at the park today. You don't have as many germs as Fluffy but you sure get me into more trouble."
She wagged her tail, thoroughly happy of course, at whatever was going on around her: squirrels, no squirrels. Treats, no treats. It all seemed good in her book. And maybe, it should be in my book too.
