Wet, again.Pouring rain accompanied us again for our early morning walk and I was glad I decided to slip the Canon into a zip lock bag and stuff it in my jacket pocket. Three minutes into our hike, Nicholai slithered into the high grass, nose twitching, apparently on a mission. A moment later he was creeping downhill, a dead bunny in his mouth.
Someone else killed the bunny; there was no chase, no pounce, no squealing. The carcass in Nicholai's mouth was bloody and he'd had no time to open it up. I wonder what happened to the predator; why didn't it finish off its prize. Nicholai didn't concern himself with these matters, reveling in the fact that no matter who started it with the bunny, he was the guy who would finish it off.
Bunny rippin' and tearin'
At his check-up and acupuncture appointment this afternoon, Nicholai weighed in at 86 pounds. That means he's down fourteen pounds from his top weight of 100 pounds, and ten pounds down since diagnosis with lymphoma a year and a half ago. In humans with cancer, there is an inverse relationship between weight loss and long term survival. Dramatic weight loss, however desired by the patient, equals reduced chances of survival, so I suppose there may be credence to Nicholai's contention that he requires more food. Today, he neatly pulled off the acquisition of his desired (required?) additional calories.
Post-bunny Strut
I hope my wild boy feels satisfied.
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