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Cat, Dog, and VoleMay 02, 2010 Some fairly near neighbors have been away the last couple of weeks, which means we've been seeing more of their hens lately. Whoever comes by to feed and check on them isn't around as often as their people, so they're ranging farther afield to scrounge bugs and other good stuff. Trav gets quite excited when he sees them from his deck, or when he catches sight of them when we're coming or going. I see this as a "pay attention to me" training opportunity. If Trav weren't on leash, the hens wouldn't have a chance. Also more in evidence are the neighbors' two cats. The larger of the two, a handsome yellow guy, is a bold one. We've encountered him several times on Pine Hill, the dirt road that runs beyond our house. He stands, or rather lies, his ground as we approach, even as Travvy leans into his walking harness with prey on his mind. "You've got more faith in this leash than I do, cat," I say. "Tugger the barn cat could tell you a cautionary tale or two about messing with Travvy." For Thibeaux, the neighbors' yellow Labradoodle (or maybe golden doodle -- I get my doodles mixed up), cats and hens are fellow creatures. For Travvy they're a source of fun and food, in that order. If I were a cat, I would not take lightly the lunging and wooing of a 78-pound malamute, but it took a brief sojourn in the Jaws of Travvy to convince Tugger that Travvy cuts no slack for cats, even big, gray, arrogant ones. So this morning we were heading down Pine Hill in the direction of Old County Road. Near Porter's house, aka the house with the red roof, Travvy went on red alert. Just ahead was the cat I rarely see, a small, dark guy. He wisely retreated into the ample scrub. Not far beyond was the yellow cat. The yellow cat was paying almost no attention to Travvy. The yellow cat's attention was devoted about 99% to teasing a vole. At this point Pine Hill is grassy and wide enough for a car to pass. The cat would nudge the vole toward the side, then head it off when it was within a few inches of safety in the scrub. This happened several times, and wasn't leaving Travvy and me much room to pass without risking the lightning-fast Malamute Pounce. "Cat," I asked, "are you totally oblivious to the fact that Travvy here would love to do unto you as you're doing unto that vole? Except that Travvy doesn't play with his food before he eats it." Finally we had enough clear space to pass without incident, though not without some excitement. The vole was still intact and uninjured. How long that remained true I can't tell you.
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