This morning, Georgia let herself out and caught a woodchuck in the backyard.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!
I was still in bed, but heard a screeching noise, so leapt up and saw her with this huge thing in her mouth and my heart nearly exploded.
I’ve heard stories of woodchucks being very vicious and causing dogs a lot of damage. Georgia had it by the neck, and was shaking it and shaking it and shaking it. To her, it was a really fun squeaky toy because it made noise and fought back, what a challenge. Ack!
I’m watching this from upstairs in the kitchen yelling and trying to think what to do. Nothing, as it turns out. When she got it sufficiently subdued, she brought it through her dog door into the basement. I raced to shut the kitchen door so she couldn’t bring it into the actual house. I didn’t want that thing in my living room or on my bed. Ewwww!
When I heard her go back outside, I went down to the basement and she had left it, right there, at the bottom of the stairs.
It wasn’t dead! Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!
I got a shovel and even though it tried to chew on the shovel I pushed it until I could get it on the shovel, took it outside and threw it over the fence. I’m sure there’s something else I should have done, but Ewwww, again!
Georgia appears to be fine. There was a drop of blood just below her eye, but I couldn’t tell if that was hers or the woodchucks.
I’ve discovered I’m not an adrenaline junkie. A couple hours later and my heart still feels 3 sizes too big.
At her core, Georgia’s a protector and she was protecting her territory.