Ruby the ferocious beast

For the past six months, every time we would let Ruby out into the front yard she would run to a patch in front of our flower garden and hunt and dig for a few persistent moles that started inhabiting our property. And every time I would catch her in the act, I would yell, RUBY! NO! Because she would dig, dig, dig these awful eyesore patches out of plush, green yard.

Well now the grass is starting to brown and the flowers are dead, so I’m less likely to blow a gasket about her digging. And yesterday, after all those attempts and furious, sneaky digs, my ferocious seven-year old chocolate lab FINALLY got her kill. And Chris said that when he found her with the mole, she was batting it around, half-dead, in the yard and being all, Yeah THAT’S RIGHT, Mr. Mole. This is MY YARD. Property of the RUBES.

Don’t worry animal lovers, Chris put the fat little rodent out of it’s misery before she could get too Jack Bauer on it. And when he told me about the bloody scene after he disposed of it, I was all, What? I wanted to see her with her kill. And he looked at me weird and said, Um. It was pretty gory stuff. Plus, with you’re hormones, you were crying at a Disney World commercial last night. I didn’t think you would have gotten excited about a dead animal. Well, I’m excited enough to blog about, my friends. Good job, Killer.