Friday morning. This rodentious varmint was just minding its business, sitting in the dogwood tree.
Maisie was agog. Aghast. Alarmed. Alert. Angsty.
Even five minutes after the varmint departed for higher climes, Maisie was still fussing over wanting to outside to run the creature off.
Or eat the creature for breakfast.
She’s also gotten pretty good at stalking the mourning doves who eat the finch feed from the ground under the feeder.
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