esrosedotblog

HUNTING

Have I written about Franklin's (and our) new game?

We are in the business of fly hunting!

I don't know how it started. He does hate flies. Houseflies. Big ones. Small ones.

He dodges and leaps to catch them. Antics.

Sometime in the distant past, one of us 'helped' him by going with the fly swatter and smacking the fly; probably to get the chasing over with. Possibly to save a window or slider from getting slicked with dog spit. The flies almost always head for the glass only to get trapped and much more easily caught.

Stupid flies.

As these things happen, one swat turned into another and a routine was established.

Who can resist an expert assist? Not Franklin.

He will come to us, all perked up ears and toes high, groaning. He has his quarry in sight.

The deal is that we are supposed to get the swatter and come to assist.

Like the hunter has the gun to down the bird, we stand by while Franklin stalks and points.

If the fly is in reach, he will snag it. He is very good at this. We have seen him catch flies on the wing with one snap of his head.

If the flies are against the window or elsewhere above his head, we are expected to hit it and bring it down or, at least, herd the fly to an area within his reach.

This is a sort of variation on the old standard hunter-dog partnership.

It gets played out now at least once a day. Sometimes more.

Is it bothersome? Sometimes. Especially if I am reading or working at the computer.

Is it fun? Yes.

Once I get into it, the adrenalin rush of the hunt takes over. Man and dog are bonded in the most primitive way.

Where is it?

I can't see it!

It is always there. He has never sent a false alarm.

Just as I doubt his sincerity, I see the fly myself.

Whap!!

Whapppp! Again.

Even when I miss, it helps. The fly goes into airedale range and is gone.

If I kill the fly and it falls, Franklin is right there to grab it. He takes over.

I don't even get credit for the kill. He is on the scene grunting and puffing and 'eating' the fly (sorry—I don't want to get too graphic) and marches off in victory.

I take the fly swatter back and hang it in its place until the next time.

We keep the swatter fully loaded; ready for game.