Attack of the Killer Puppy

Scout at 8 weeks

See this adorable little puppy?

That was then. Now, she is a torturer and a murderer.

As I write these words, Scout is playfully tossing a defenseless (probably now dead) baby bunny in the air, over and over, wagging her tail, having a wonderful time.

A few minutes ago when I called her to go for a walk, I could see she was excited about something on the ground. Probably a bug, I thought. She loves bugs.

Then I saw it: a tiny rabbit, slowly trying to get away, but Scout promptly grabbed it and tossed it in the air. I could hear its terrified squeaks.

I tried to get her to leave it but she just picked it up by the head and ran out of reach. She knew I would take it away from her, just as I have all the bits of junk she has picked up and tried to eat on our walks. There was no way she’s going to let me take this treasure away.

I screamed, “NOOOOOO!”

There was nothing I could do for the poor thing. Except…

“Let’s go for a walk,” I called in what I hoped was a cheerful tone. “Come on. Scout! C’mere!”

She tossed the bunny in the air again and pounced on it, not even looking at me.

“Well, I’m taking a walk,” I bluffed, and started off down the road.

Scout paid no attention. After a few yards, I gave up and went back to the van.

I know it’s natural, instinctive behavior but —

Ack, Scout just jumped in the van for a drink, then came over to me, mouth dripping, all proud of herself. The bunny must be dead. I looked for blood on her face but couldn’t see any. Still, the thought of that poor little creature in her mouth…

“Get away from me!”

She jumped out of the van and lay down nearby, presumably finished with her fluffy little toy. I can only imagine its condition now.

Yesterday, I decided to let her roam off-leash. She always came when I called and usually hung out in camp, so I felt relatively safe.

“Besides,” I told myself, “men don’t tie their dogs up when they go camping.”

At least, not the men I’d seen.

This, despite the fact that National Forest rule is clear: Dogs must be on a six-foot leash at all times, and at all times connected to a human. Well, I have already broken that rule by using a twenty-foot lead and tying Scout to the van with it when I want to relax inside and she doesn’t.

We’ve gone on a couple of off-leash walks that were much more enjoyable for both of us. No yanking on the lead, no more hurt-y hands or tangled feet. And we both got just the right amount of exercise.

Oh, great. Now I see she’s found some previous camper’s carelessly-tossed toilet paper—wait, is she digging up someone’s shit? EWWW! (Yes, it’s actually okay to bury your poop out here, but you’re supposed to go away from your camp. And it would be nice if you buried your toilet paper too.)

“SCOUT!!!”

I grab an egg from the drawer and break it over her kibble. That always works.

“C’mere! Get your food! Come on!”

She walks up to the van and looks in suspiciously. Finally, when I pick up the dish and actually show her the egg, she jumps in. She laps up it up but leaves the kibble, apparently not hungry. That poor little bunny must have had more meat on its bones than I thought.

Now that Scout has discovered the joy of hunting, will she roam farther and farther away, looking for more critters to torture? Will she ever come when I call again?

I’d better go find Scout and tie her up again. She’s not going to like that.

Update: Turns out food is the answer. And me NOT hanging out in the van (my preferred pastime) but doing interesting stuff outside for her to watch, like cooking or fixing up the campsite. She follows me everywhere so there’s no need to tie her up as long as I am outside myself. I suppose I should go around and clean up the toilet paper and bits of trash. She is going to turn me into a better person whether I like it or not!