The Suffolk Two

These two dames spent their Easter afternoon out on the water meadow. Don’t worry, their patience was rewarded with a roast beef dinner served on white bone china!

Sally is the greyhound who is so fine and quivery she reminds me of a mouse. Unke is the white boxer, unke is a Hindi word, but I don’t remember the meaning.

WARNING: The remainder of this post is only suitable for those readers with a strong stomach. Mother, you won’t find this amusing.

I was told about a less genteel meal they once partook. Sally used to be a racing greyhound. She’s pretty small though and was ultimately unequal to the task. She has her chase instinct intact, the dealing with prey one is a bit faulty though. Apparently she once caught a squirrel which fought back. My poor sister was then faced with a screeching squirrel impaled on Sally’s tooth and a screaming greyhound that was being counter-attacked. Having been bitten by a grey squirrel myself (which necessitated a hospital trip) I can vouch for the fact that Sally had every right to make a fuss. Anyway, somehow the rodent was detached and it ran off, whereupon Sally’s chase instinct kicked in and… rewind.

That wasn’t the meal. The meal was a rabbit. With myxomatosis. Which more or less ran into Sally’s jaws before dying instantly of shock as rabbits (not squirrels) are prone to do. Sally had no interest then in a dead, non-running rabbit and dropped it. Unke thought mmmm tasty and ate it – head first – for about 30 minutes. All the while growling so there was nothing to be done but wait for her to finish.

Nice. Even nicer was when she barfed the bunny back up on the way home in the middle of a suburban pavement in Brentwood.

Posted on April 6, 2010, in Biophilia, Dogs, Easter and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. The Wray Barton Wrecking Crew

    Dogs are foul. Tramp has excelled himself this weekend, and they have both had the hosepipe treatment. I’m glad Margot (the cat’s) phase of catching rabbits has passed – it was too much like hard work I think, but I did used to dread the blood bath I would come home to, especially before she figured out (by trial and error, of course) that the only tasty bit she should eat is the head. Where we used to live their cat had clearly eaten a rabbit, and then proceeded to vom the whole thing up ALL OVER the range. Fnar fnar. God love animals.

  2. It’s the perils of living in the country.

    No rabbits for Rudi. He chased a black & white cat in my “cat free” paddock zone at the weekend. I, of course, took immediate action and covered my ears.

    Thankfully the cat got up a tree. I am thinking of a muzzle.

  3. it’s only nature:
    my friend told me this as she whacked a half dead squirrel on the head with a piece of wood then draped it over a higher branch: her lurcher didn’t finish the job so she did: nice

  4. Well that’s true, but it is yucky šŸ™‚

    I also don’t wonder if a copper might leap out from behind a tree and accuse me of hunting with a dog…

  5. I do wonder!

  6. Stephen Foster

    Lemon was a hardcore cat hater. He was also an ace scavenger who could take an old Kentucky Fried chicken bone out of a hedge (on the lead) in well under a second. His [best/worst] episode came when he was being given round-the-block rehab for one of his numerous injuries and he did the chicken bone trick with a cat sitting up an alley between terraced houses. It was T who was with him, not me. She said that by screaming at him and whacking him the cat somehow eventually got free but she didn’t know whether it would live or die.

    When she got back home, trembling, and washed all the blood off his head and out of his mouth she also had to remove two cat’s claws from his cheeks where they had been left behind…

  7. Oooh I really hope my mother isn’t reading.

    Poor cat / Poor T šŸ˜¦

    I think I shall get a muzzle.

  8. Too much info all round. I’ve had my share of wrestling putrid rabbit corpses from canine jaws, dead rats rotting in the bathroom, and dogs spraying blood for 36 hrs from every orifice after eating an entire pineapple but really…..

    Muzzles are good.

  9. I picked up a muzzle today. The packaging said “It’s sad…”

    It was too small – that was sad!

  10. Stephen Foster

    We learned our lesson after that and a muzzle was purchased immediately. You wouldn’t think a lurcher on a 3ft lead on rehab walks for a broken ankle could do it, would you. If you thought about the physical dynamics of it you’d think the cat’s instinct would take it backwards…

    On a slightly different note, Delia Smith and her husband, and co-owner of Norwich City, Michael Wynne Jones are known locally as “The Stowmarket Two” due to where they live and to the suspicion that arouses, Norfolk/Suffolk borders wise.

  11. Well, to be fair, dogs are like kids: as soon as you’ve foiled one party trick they start up with a new one.

    Rudi’s appears to be peeing on towels that are not hung on the towel rail. He’s just keeping us tidy.

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