In which our heroine confirms her Terrierness.
Praline has been a regular Barky McBarkerson lately, and now we know why. She's been having cussing contests with a big honking squirrel that apparently took up residence in my attic.
Not so fast, sport. Not on Praline's watch you don't.
Praline enlisted Daddy's aid, and he got Mumsy's little lever-action Browning .22 and a single well-placed Super Colibri made the bad squirrel come down from the roof toute-de-suite.
Miss Praline went in to finish the job and snatched the squirrel from midair a couple feet off the ground, and then the awfulest bunch of shaking and thrashing you've never seen commenced. It was mayhem. There was blood flying all over the place and I thanked her for giving me a puppy post for the weekend-- something new and totally fresh.
She's all proud and prancy, having enjoyed a big adventure. I've begged daddy to skin out the squirrel for a little squirrel skin cap for Chuy. Praline, meanwhile, is just lusting for her next kill. Woe betide the squirrelses.
Squirrel is pining for the fjords.