I don’t hunt. I don’t get the appeal but I know there are those who have a passion for it. Like Jake.
Jake and I were in the backyard the other day. He was wobbling around in the grass and i was hosing off the patio. All of a sudden I heard a scuffle. I went to the grass and saw Jake — FULL ON TAKING CHASE OF SOMETHING. I mean it was like his guardian angel (Melvin) arranged for him to have speed and he was, in his own glorious-wonky-way, on the heels of a chipmunk! I love Jake but that chipmunk must have been embarrassed as hell that Jake was able to remain on his tail (even after wiping out a few times). I started yelling ‘GET’EM JAKE, GET THAT INTRUDER’ (really loudly and passionately and I scared myself a little). Eventually Jake’s legs lost their heavenly sent power and the chipmunk got away.
I went over and helped Jake up and I high-fived his efforts. I had to go get cheese just to get him to let the chase go and come back inside.
We limit Jake’s hunting to the back yard. And since I cannot stand the chipmunks that are wreaking havoc on my yard and patio, if Jake were to catch one, I’d squeal with delight. Sorry Alvin and brothers, but you come into Jake’s
house yard, you are dinner. He’s gonna eat you.
After he got back inside, he moaned to go back out, while also full on hyperventilating from the heat. Oh, Jake.
Here is the hunter, in his monkey diaper. Resting up for the next outing.