Early evening Monday was very mild, and I left the door to the back yard open so the little old lady dog could come and go. I've noticed several times recently that a pair of mallards have been landing in the pool and swimming about. I worried that they'd try to nest, because Miss Buns would not be having any of that.
Anyway, I was sitting in the living room, reading, and I noticed the ducks fly in. The dog was somewhere in the house, probably napping. I'd forgotten them completely when about an hour later, a terrible racket issued from the back as the dog set afoot the audible discord of her race. [thank you, Ambrose]
Doglet dithered about the pool in such a state of agitation that she actually fell in. This is funny because she takes great pains never to enter the swimming pool. She fell or flopped in, splashed about and got herself back out again, and all the while the unflappable ducks swam calmly about, apparently never doubting their ability to evade capture. She then ran rowdy circles around the pool until the ducks seemed to tire of her harangue and flew away.
Doglet came in wet and all lathered up, loaded for bear. I think she'll sleep soundly tonight, but her old arthritic body may punish her tomorrow.
Still, here's to the old girl getting whipped into a frenzy at the prospect of fresh quarry. That's my baby!