Max appeared at the back door the other morning just at sunup, soaking wet from head to toe.
Now, this dog loves water - he'll lie down in a 3-inch deep mud puddle and even in the middle of winter, he'll angle off into the woods to take a dip in one of the ponds - but he's like me in that he hates to get his face wet. He looked miserable!
And he was worn out, not even interested in taking a walk, like he was sapped of all energy.
Tom told me when he left for work that morning he heard Max barking and barking near the pond. We figured he had gotten into it with something - a deer perhaps - and fallen into the water. Worried about injuries, we checked him all over, but couldn't find any marks or scratches.
It wasn't until the next day that the mystery was solved: Tom found a dead raccoon near the edge of the pond. In the past, Max and Charly teamed up against raccoons (yes, sweet Charly!) and I bet it caught Max by surprise what a tough battle it was on his own. But obviously, he won, even though it took three days for him to regain his energy.
Normally I'd be sad that he killed a furry little animal out here, but as cute and furry as raccoons are, I really don't like them. Maybe it's because of the morning at the end of my night shift years ago, when I heard a hissing sound as I rounded the last flight of stairs on a methanol tank. I looked up and there, only a few feet away, was a huge raccoon, fur bristling, warning me that if I went a step farther, I'd have a raccoon eating my face.
I heeded his warning and went back down the stairs to the ground, where I promptly called my supervisor to let him know I wouldn't be taking the methanol tank reading that morning. He suggested throwing rocks at the raccoon, etc. I said no, but he was welcome to come out and try it if he wanted to. I was more scared of that raccoon than my supervisor, that's for sure.
When I think "raccoon" I envision that snarling masked face peering out of the darkness at me, so maybe that's why I can't feel bad about Max killing this one. But I think the biggest reason is because I've heard too many stories of raccoons killing guineas. This one had ventured too close for my comfort - and I'm sure for Frankie's.
Looks like Frankie made a good decision picking our house to call his home - not such a dumb bird after all.
Frankie stuck close to Max's side during our walk yesterday ...
Frankie isn't effusive with his gratitude, but Belle is!
