A Jack Russell Terrier is a hunter and very focused, at that. Little did I know when I picked the cowering rescue girl in the corner of the adoption room, where she wouldn’t eat anything out of the volunteer’s hand, that she would get comfortable enough in her third life to stalk and kill the neighborhood squirrels.
So far, the score is Daisy 1, squirrels 0. But yesterday she was determined to double her score. She’d dug a hole under my back fence and ended up in the neighbors’ yard. I knew where she was when I couldn’t find her anywhere and she missed a treat time. She’d been through that hole before.
I ignored the problem until the neighbors started texting. They didn’t want my little white dog to get hurt. I texted back that I was on my way to get her.
As I grumbled to myself that I didn’t appreciate walking the neighborhood in my pajama bottoms, I realized that the driveway and sidewalks were torn out of the neighbors’ front yard, making my path a bit precarious.
“Daisy’s not the one that’s going to get hurt,” I grumbled as I went across their front yard to the side gate. I opened it up, and there on the hill, out of my reach, was my dog, ready to get the squirrel that was taunting her from the top of the six-foot fence.
I called her name ten times. She was oblivious to my voice, never even looking my direction. She was so focused on killing that squirrel. It took off, running down the fence rail, and Daisy went with it, barking all the way.
I gave up and grumbled some more on my way back up the hill to my street.
“I am too flipping old for this!”
I didn’t say flipping.
The vet had told me the first time she met Daisy that I was the sucker that took home a Jack Russell. She was surpised at the three-year check-up and even said it out loud.
“You’ve had her for three years!”
I’d left my phone at home, so when I got back, I texted the neighbors that Daisy would come home when it got dark, which was an hour away.
She did, running into the house like she’d just been outside to pee.
My son and I went to Home Depot today and bought 8 cement pavers to plug the hole where Daisy has dug under the fence, even though I’d already used a board, a half dozen bricks, and a huge pot of water to stop her. The pot holds about 10 gallons.
The first two years it was the rats that she killed, and we don’t have any anymore. Now it’s the squirrels. I personally like squirrels, day rats with better tails.
I’ve been told that Jack Russells don’t mellow out over time. Daisy is probably 7. I am definitely 66. She could live another decade.
I’m already one tired puppy.
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 