The story of the muskrat and a Pooh Bear

One lovely day, a loooong time ago... two days ago - I decided to take my wonderful canine friends for a nice, pleasant walk on one of our first sunny spring days. It was a day not unlike this day:

Except it was not so sunny. Or warm. But it's spring in the Yukon, what do you expect??

So I took out a few dogs - the energetic-psychotic Pooh Bear, the always-excited-about-everything-especially-poo Woody, calm-but-slightly-hesitant-wiggly-bum Esther and Mr.-keeps-his-distance-from-humans-mostly Loki.

It started out to be a lovely walk. We walked, they ran. I sat down on a log.

Then it got really quiet. The dogs disappeared up into a higher meadow with an unthawing small pond...

Never trust quiet dogs. And never EVER trust a quiet Pooh Bear. Keep that in mind should you meet one someday.

Anyways... I had a feeling something was up and so did this muskrat. Or maybe he/she didn't, who knows.

Err... who's out there?

(no it's not a Brontosaurus, let's just call my "art" slightly abstract)

As I ran up the hill to see what the dogs were up to, I saw them digging in the grass and out popped Pooh Bear's head WITH a muskrat in her mouth! If there is ONE thing that freakin' flips me out, it's my dogs with dead things. And this was no small dead thing. Oh it was dead. Good n' dead. But it wasn't a one-gulper like a mouse. And I don't think Pooh Bear quite knew what to do with it.

So because I instinctively started screaming (and keep in mind, I was like, 100ft away from her at the time), in her little pea-brain it made sense to came RUNNING TO ME! When in doubt, run to your human right??!


And it made even more sense in PB's brain to jump ON me!

I was not impressed seeing this little white blur screaming towards me with a flopping muskrat hanging out of her mouth. In fact, I panicked. I screamed. And I ran. And I screamed some more. And I ran some more. The more I screamed and faster I ran, the more excited PB got. I could tell she was just loving this - she got as excited as she does when I'm about to wind up during ball time. Like vibrating with excitement excited.


Then she'd stop to try and eat it, but would get distracted by me running away and screaming (yes, this went on FOREVER). It's really hard to outrun a speedy little PB, even with a dead rodent in her mouth. So I'd get ahead for a bit, then she'd stop, pick up the muskrat and come catch me. I seriously ran across that meadow, down the hill (screaming and waving my arms and yelling obscenities at her - none of which worked by the way), then across a bigger meadow... I couldn't lose PB & the muskrat.


After trying in vain to lose them, I had my most rational thought during this whole ordeal - I thought "screw the meadows, I'm running through the trees, maybe I can lose her!"

Yeah, soooo that didn't work.

Turns out I ran the 1.5km's back zig-zagging everywhere to try and lose her, which didn't work. By the time we got close to the homestead, I think PB started thinking "BALL" and dropped what remained of the muskrat to burn home ahead of me. Meanwhile I'm tweaking like a crack addict going through withdrawals from the excitement and heart palpitations. Might as well have ran a freakin' marathon.

Then Woody picked up the muskrat remains... probably 'cause he thought it was poo. And finished it off.

And then I had a big stiff drink and watched hockey playoffs.

The End.