The Game Is On

The game is on.

It's a damp and warm-ish morning and there are a dozen places I'd rather be than on my hands and knees in the dirt trying to coax the little dachshund out from under the house. He peers at me from the other side of the latticework, knowing I can't reach him, and not about to give up on his adventure. When I discover the opening he's patiently and persistently dug over the course of several days, it confirms my theory that he's part badger and maybe even part mole. Just before he turns tails and trots off into the darkness, he grins at me and I can see by his eyes that he's more than a little proud of himself.

I track him by the jingle of his tags and am waiting when he emerges on the other side but the second he sees me, he dodges and darts back under the house.

This time, however, I have a secret weapon. I go back inside, rummage around in the corner where he keeps his toys, and come up with his beloved Lambchop. It seems a low trick but all's fair in love and dachshunds.

It only takes one squeak.

Gotcha.