Canine Criminal Minds

Out in the boonies of NM yesterday, our dogs returned from their trot in the wilds, with heads hanging low and tails tucked, as if they'd made a mess getting into the trash. At first, they looked to be caked in mud, and I thought they must have found a watering hole to play in til dark. But under the cabin's porch light, it was instantly clear that the crime they'd committed was a much worse offense than skinny dippin' n comin' home muddy. For it was not mud they were caked in, it was blood. The shaming they thought to get, from the looks of it, was for murder, ew, and ew, ew, again, Ewww, from the looks of it, brutal murder. What ever was killed died a horrible death. Although their guilty demeanors said, "Yes, we did it, we killed the waskily wabbit...without a wifle... and then we played tug-a-war with the liddle wabbit's body.", or proudly, "Why, yes! We erradicated an entire colony of infiltrating prairie dogs. Please, can you thank us later, master? May we clean up and get the taste of varmint blood out of our mouths first?", we could neither punish nor congratulate them. Because as any one witness to a crime knows, without a victim there can be no crime charged. We left the boonies before this morning's sunrise could shed light on what might remain to be seen of the victim(s). So now, my friends, you reading this, you are all suspect to being called a rat, that is, only if Animal Control Officers happen to show up 'on a tip'. Damn it...I never wanted to lead a life of crime. I just wanted the proverbial 'best friend' to love.