I enjoy Sunday mornings because it is the only time I don’t feel stressed. My fiancé Mason and I often take Deme our lab, to the dog park.
Today, Deme has spied ducks walking onto the grass by the lake. ” Deme come,” I say sternly. “Mommy says come here now.” She gives me that look dogs give you when they are going to do what they want even when you tell them ‘No.’
Deme picks up the tiniest duckling in her mouth.
“Down, put the duckling down, Deme.” Mason warns. Deme begins to shake the duckling and play with it. “Deme no! Bad dog.” Mason says in a deep threatening voice.
Then to our amazement there is only a fluff of feathers. I’m not sure how, but our lab has swallowed a duckling, with only a few chomps. Mama duck is furious and chases Deme everywhere.
” Come here, Deme.” I shout to her. She comes quickly, begging me to save her with a whimper. But I am too late, Mama duck bites Deme on the butt, three times.
There is something horrid about Deme eating a precious tiny duckling. But then again, as Darwinian’s would put it, it’s natural selection.
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SFP.
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