I'll update about all of the cute things little Royal has been doing soon; we really are loving having him around. At the moment, though, I'm too frustrated with his disgusting behavior this morning.
A few minutes ago, I looked out the window to see Royal frolicking in the yard, per his usual morning routine. "How sweet", I thought. "What's in his mouth? Is that his rope? No.... Is that the washcloth? No.... Is that...? Oh, no...."
Yes, our dog was playfully tossing around a dead animal of some kind.
My mind quickly went to this possibility, since just last night we were sitting on the patio when he came in from exploring in the yard, and he had a distinctly gross scent. (Note to self: When the dog's mouth smells like something died, investigate the situation further.)
It was a squirrel. A rotting, stinky squirrel. But it might as well have had "Toy for Royal" written all over it. Ugh. I corralled the animal (the live one), tied him to the porch (a task in itself while trying to minimize our contact...gross), grabbed the shovel from the garage, and scooped up the carcass.
And then, Royal got a Milkbone. (No, he shouldn't have gotten a treat, but his breath reeked...what would you have done?!)
The dog has a bath in his future today. He's due, anyway. It's 10 days past his surgery, so we should have the all-clear for bathing. But, because his first bath is not a task I care to take on by myself, that will have to wait until Bobby gets home.
Bless that puppy's heart. He was just playing, and I hated yelling at him for that...he really didn't understand.
But, well, whatever...we don't play with dead animals.