It wasn’t ever going to be Johnny Cash’s #1 Hit, but Egg Suckin’ Dog did grace the cover of one of his more obscure albums way back when. The tune lamented the nasty habit of his dog that would raid his hen house.

“If he don’t stop eatin’ my eggs up

Though I’m not a real fat guy,

I’m going to take my rifle and send him

To that great chicken house in the sky. ”

By now I’ll assume that you’re wondering where I’m going with this . Here I thought it would be obvious… Jude and I have an egg suckin’ dog !

It goes like this : I’m seated atop the Writer’s Perch the other day when I unglue my eyes from my iPad enough to see our dog, Echo, rummaging around in the Pachysandra. I am aware that two wild ducks, Mr. & Mrs. Mallard, are inhabiting the pond that is overseen from the Perch.

I am further aware that Mrs. Mallard has chosen to nest in that Pachysandra.

Not liking what I was seeing, I yelled to get Echo’s attention. I knew it was a bad situation when she paid no mind to my shouts. That dog was singularly focused near the spot of the duck’s nest.

Relegated to near immobility on the Perch, it wasn’t as though I could race after her. It was too late anyway.

Presently she trotted by the Perch, obviously with egg #1 in her mouth. Up by the garage, I listened helplessly as egg shells cracked. Our egg suckin’ dog returned eight times to Mrs. Mallard’s nest !

The next day, the Mallards no longer adorned the surface of the pond. Sadly, they must have flown to other waters. We’ll miss them. Mr. Mallard’s colors are truly magnificent.

Surely there is always leveling circumstance. In her pen, Echo had a night of wretched sickness. Will she know better than to do this next year ? In all likelihood, no.


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