Bandit's Discovery

Our miniature pinscher, Bandit, is a very observant canine. Though considered a "miniature" he weighs in between twenty and twenty five pounds. If that weight is hurled at a person from a dead on run it can knock over a grown man. He has no compunction whatsoever about launching himself against anyone or anything that he feels does not belong on our property. He's a great guard dog, letting us know with his furious barking and low growls whenever a stranger is approaching. He must be thoroughly convinced that a person is truly a friend before relaxing his guard. The house and land where we abide is Bandit's domain and woe be to another animal that dares to infringe upon that territory. Many neighborhood dogs and cats have been chased away when they have dared to set foot on our property or even walk on the road passing our house. Unfortunately, Bandit's barking and scent have also warned the deer that used to be prevalent in our grove. Each year my husband obtains a land owners hunting permit in the hopes of bagging one, but they just don't seem to show up anymore.

With Spring just around the corner the wild life is becoming abundant once more and nothing escapes Bandit's sharp eyes and keen hearing. This morning, we finally got to the task of taking down our outdoor Christmas decorations. Of course, Bandit was in his height of glory as he could run free while were were about our mission. We also had a load of trash to take to the burn hole at the back of the acreage. We filled the loader bucket on the Farmall and proceeded to head for the hole. As we unloaded the garbage we could hear Bandit's angry barks. At first we assumed that someone was passing on the road or that an rabbit had run across the yard. Those little critters are very profuse around here and are usually the culprits that antagonize our pet. The barking continued and grew even more intense. I soon realized that the sounds were coming from one of our old out buildings and strolled over to have a look. Bandit was intent opon something in the corner of the shed, trying to dig under a pile of tires and old rims. I summoned my husband who ventured into the building and tried to see what was causing Bandit's grief. By now our little dog was totally absorbed in digging out whatever was hiding beneath the rubble. I called to him and my husband pulled him back by the collar to get a better look. With a yelp, the dog shot backward with a tuft of whitish fur between his teeth.

A couple of years ago Bandit's curiousity had brought him up against a skunk. I really didn't want to go through that again but as I watched, Buck quickly backed out of the shack and announced, "I think it's a skunk... I saw a white stripe." "But with all that commotion, why didn't he spray?" I wondered. Buck assumed that it was a young animal who didn't have the ability to send out his perfume yet. We debated whether to leave the animal to grow up and cause more trouble or to take the chance, shoot it and hope nobody came away with a stench. Finally, Buck decided on the later and went off to get the pistol. Soon he was back in the shed and I heard two shots. I peered in and asked, "Did you get it?" After pulling some of the tires out of the way we could see that there was indeed a motionless pile of fur lying on the floor. We could see that it was not a skunk, as we had presumed. From the angle of the body we couldn't determine exactly what it was, so my brave husband bent to move more of the debris and get a closer look. Once more, he jumped back just as I saw a pink mouth open and the body shift. Grabbing the gun from the back of his pants he delivered two more shots into the mound. He reached down and victoriously lifted a dead possum by the tail.