Life is like a box of rattlesnake eggs

What I didn’t tell you about yesterday’s rattlesnake incident is that Cooper is now on high terror alert about walking out the front door. Getting ambushed from below is very demoralizing for little doggies. Especially when it happens while you’re standing atop the perch you consider to be your safe haven, your special he-manly place from whence you ratted out the last interloping snake to be espied on the premises.

Last night Coop stood at the front door in the universal stance of “Let me out, now, servant,” so of course I got up and opened the door. He stood there about two feet back from the door sill surveying for possible hazards, and decided, “Nope, ain’t going out there alone.” Then he briskly trotted in a little circle that put him behind the door where he jumped up against the door and slammed it shut.

Guess we know what Coop thinks about snakes at pam[at]viewfromthenorth40.com