Boy this guy had terrific camouflage. He almost matched the tree. Rick just about grabbed him when he was "rubbing the trunk" to dislodge little lizards for Davis to chase. We left this prehistoric-looking creature alone. He was almost a foot long and no one wanted to clean up guts or pull his carcass out from between Davis' teeth. If Rick would have grabbed it, he probably would have jumped a mile and H-Mom would have screamed. She's not scared, just easily surprised.
It was thundering all morning while we were at the dog park. No rain, big noise. Booker is having minor panic attacks, ever since the Fourth of July. The rumbling in the sky had him hanging close to H-Mom all morning. He was whining and acting a little agitated. It was a bit embarrassing in front of the all the other dogs, who didn't even look at the threatening clouds, and their humans, but everyone was very understanding.
We are beginning to suspect that his first "home" in South Carolina determined that Booker wasn't going to be much of a coon-hunter. He is a natural tracker, knows how to "tree," and has a great choppy tracking bark. But, the sound of a shotgun might have sent him running to the next county. Or perhaps he associates neglect and abuse with loud explosions. Whatever it was, it's a bad memory for Booker, and he has been having some Post-Traumatic Stress for the past two weeks. If there is a loud BANG, he melts into the picture of a dog under heavy military attack. He cannot get home fast enough, his tail between his legs, slinking furtively along the pavement, until he is safe behind the condo's Hurricane-rated (and sound-proof) windows.
