Please forgive me, my little Jack. The squirming long puppy who once burrowed under my Lovely Lady-Mullet and around the back of my neck when I'd hold you up on my shoulder the week you first came to live with us. I didn't mean anything by it. Those words just slipped out. It was not intentional. Not meant to hurt your feelings. Not even a crass statement such as when the UPS lady blurted it out while carrying a box to the Mansion porch.
"Look at you! You're so FAT!"
So sorry, Jack. You are stocky! Not fat. Husky, even. Like your red heeler half. They are strong dogs with wide chests. Not whippet-thin. And of course your dachshund half puts you low to the ground, on those short legs. So when I look down on you, the perspective makes you look wide. You are not obese. I'm not calling Dr. Nowzaradan for a consult.
Yes, I am sorry I said that about my little Jack. Even though he DOES look larger than he did last week. He does not carry extra weight well.
I figured the special meatball treats that The Pony bought for me, which turned out to be DOG treats, must be very filling. They are dense. It takes Jack a few minutes to eat his. Several bites, as the meatball crumbles. Even my Sweet, Sweet Juno has to chew hers, and not wolf it down in one gulp. She is not a dainty eater by any means.
So convinced of the calorie density of these meatballs, I have been giving Jack the smallest one in my hand, and giving Juno TWO of them, because she looks frail in comparison, and she's a bigger dog.
Well. Jack is definitely a pound or two heavier. He's like an overstuffed sausage. And now Farmer H, who agreed that Jack was looking bigger, has solved the mystery.
"I know why your Jack is getting fat! He's eating baby rabbits!"
"WHAT?"
"I seen him. Just now. He came down the driveway with one in his mouth. Got is somewhere up there in our yard, or the other Jack's field. It was hanging out both sides of his mouth. About as big as my Mountain Dew bottle."
That explains it. Not the two meatballs a day, or the slice of bread when I don't give the meatballs, or the parts of the treat that Copper Jack doesn't eat fast enough, and my little Jack pounces on like an eel darting out of an underwater crevice to steal.
Jack's a working dog by both half-pedigrees. I'm pretty sure it's the badger-hunting dachshund half the makes chasing and killing the rabbits so desirable. I'm pretty sure he's not rounding up rabbits to move somewhere else.
3 comments:
Jack is certainly a resourceful pup. Would he go after mice? A few of them (and probably working on making more) have moved into our house. You could rent out Jack, and he could be a house dog for bit, until all the mice are gone.
Let me know the cost, and the travel arrangements...
Hard as it may be, the thing to do is feed him less as long as he is feasting on babies. Or find out where he is getting them and fence off that area.
Sioux,
I'm sure Jack would go after mice. He would be so bored in a house that he would make it his waking-hour purpose to hunt down all the mice and make them a snack. You can't take the hound out of the dog, and every hound I've ever known has had an insatiable appetite.
When we get our yearly mouse, we use the old-fashioned snappy-traps. They work well. That sticky-strip thingy worked great for catching the baby mole that we thought was a mouse. But then there's the issue of disposing of a live critter stuck to a little mat. You can rip its feet off and let it go outside, but that seems not such a good scenario for the mouse, whom I think would prefer a swiftly-broken neck, as opposed to a footless life, or slow poisoning.
What about Radar? Is he not a mouser? Jack is bossy and initiates play, but then gets snarly if he's not getting the upper hand. Or paw.
If you have a Gator, Jack will jump up in it and ride along. Make sure your gloves and empty soda bottles are stashed away, or they will be in pieces by the time you get home with Jack. I wouldn't feel right charging you for Jack's mousing services. Perhaps you have a Label Baby Jr that you're willing to trade?
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River,
I first accused Jack of eating Zirc's food through the day, but Farmer H said it was up on the trailer, and Jack couldn't get to it. You know, my same little Jack that Farmer H said climbed up on the trunk of his 1980 Olds Toronado and took a crap. He also said Zirc eats all her food when he gives it to her. Farmer H is the feeder, so he needs to give Jack less food in his dog dish every morning. Jack DOES have a smaller bowl than Juno.
There is no fence that could hold Jack. His digging paws and short long body could squeeze under anything less than concrete several feet below the ground. Jack is a chewer, too. So even a wire cage would eventually be gnawed through. Like a prisoner slicing through the bars with a nail file.
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