Bugs

My dog has found her calling in life.  She is a magnet for flies, mosquitoes, moths, and every other long-legged disgusting creature life begets as a bug.  And she loves them.  Well, she loves to eat them.

This morning was particularly funny.  At 6:30 AM each morning, I wake up, throw on her collar, and sleepily lead her to the sliding glass door in a morning haze.  Usually, she is jumping in circles, high on her anticipation to pee, eat rocks, and roll in the grass.  Maybe even eat some of that grass.  But today, Aries stopped dead at the door and stared at the screen mounted in the frame behind it.  Not paying attention to her, I slid the door open, grabbed the lead and latched it to her collar.  I kicked the door wider for her to slide through, but she stood there, her eyes focused on something on the other side of the pane.  Then she moved slightly, cocking her head to the left.  Then she jumped onto the first step.  Then, with all the stealth and ferocity she could muster, she tried to eat one of the ugliest bugs I have ever seen hanging to the bottom of the screen.

Did she manage to swallow it down?  No.  I am a mean master, one depriving dogs of bugs, and I gently forced her to walk down the stairs to take care of business.  Tonight will present more prospects.  We live off a pond and that pond is the breeding ground of all creepy-crawlies.  Aries is their sworn enemy.  They have no hope for escape.