A week to the day after the Skunk Incident, we had the Jack Wabbit Incident. Good ol' Zaz flew out the doors at dawn to a squirrel, two birds and a rabbit who scattered when they caught wind of him. Well, the bunny didn't make it through the fencing. I yelled for Zaz to release the poor creature and he squeaked a frantic few times then he went silent.
This damned Afghan was very proud of himself as he did a parade trot with head and tail held high around the garden with the limp Wabbit in his mouth. He was a big one. Zaz put him down but wouldn't come to me. As I approached him, he grabbed said Wabbit and took off to another part of the garden to dine on his fresh breakfast. Baby Ilili wanted some but I kept her at a distance by leash. I can't have her sick with only one shot so far.
When Zazoo finished, I threw a large terra cotta pot over the remains and the nice Village of Mamaroneck garbage collectors, Aka, the bin boys, came with a shovel and took it away.
Then I had the pleasure of washing fur, fat and gristle out of his beard and ears. I wanted to vomit. That was the worse part: up close and personal. Uff Uff Uff!
After he dried, I brought him in. Before I knew it, he jumped on the table to sleep off his breakfast. Cheeky Afghan!
