I did not think my pets would be eating each other. I don’t mean play fighting and chewing eating-each-other, I mean Eating. Each. Other. Let’s just say my cat is making Hershey look like a choirgirl. Spencer is the new #1 troublemaker in the house—even after he got fixed! I thought he was supposed to mellow out.
Not so much. But it might just be his instincts. He’s obsessed with our fish (not in the koi pond, the ones in our three tanks and two fish bowls. If I let him out by the koi pond he’d probably suit up in scuba gear for a dream feast.) I thought it was cute the way he’d bat at the fish in our tanks. Very instinctual, it seemed, at least according to all the cartoons and commercials I’ve seen over the years. I took a picture of him gazing longingly into this suspended bowl we have for a betta fish in the kitchen. It looked like a funny cartoon or something, Spencer hoping to sink his claws into those fins.
Well, he did. He actually did. Somehow, the deviant knocked the bowl off the counter and the whole thing landed, still standing up. But the bowl fell off. It didn’t even break, but it tipped over, and the beautiful blue betta became a tasty midnight snack for Spencer. (I assume, anyway. The whole mess was there in the morning, but no fish. And Hershey was in her crate. The case wouldn’t really make for an exciting game of Clue. ) I was angry, but I felt like I shouldn’t be. It’s just Spencer’s instinct, right?
However, Hershey’s killer instincts seem to be nonexistent. She didn’t get the hunting gene. We were out roaming out the backyard after a windstorm, when Hershey was nosing around in the grass. I heard this pitiful squawking, and saw Hershey nose to nose with a baby bird that had fallen from it’s nest. The poor thing flapped its wings and screamed at Hershey, trying it’s best to seem fierce. But Hershey just looked at it like it was the most curious thing she’d ever seen. She didn’t snap at it or try to eat it. She didn’t bark at it. She just looked at it. I brought her back into the house in case she changed her mind, though.
But I don’t think she would have. Hershey is so very gentle (when she’s not jumping on Riley or play fighting with the cat.) I wonder if not all dogs have a killer instinct.
Even the blind Lab we had when I was little somehow found a dead duck and proudly stumbled back to the door with it clutched in his mouth. But my little Hershey comes face to face with an itty-bitty defenseless bird and just looks at it?
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want her hauling animal carcasses home in gratitude. Her little bits of sticks and bark left at the door are quite cute. I’m just wondering what’s up with my pup. Is she like a Dalai Lama Doggy? Or maybe this is something she’ll grow into and her hunting instinct will kick in? Or maybe I’m just wrong about dogs. Maybe they aren’t all hunters. I hope she’ll always see other creatures more as an intriguing spectacle—than delicious dinner.
Hopefully, she’ll help convert the cat to her way of thinking.
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Have you missed any of the articles in this series?
If so, you can find them at:
The Bringing Up Puppy Series page.
Related posts:
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – Holding Tight
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – In the Summer Time
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – Worries Worries
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – The Worst Lab
- Bringing Up Puppy Series – Fairy Dog Mother – Part 2
