All day I heard the squeak of the chipmunk and saw flashes of Bud racing around my studio. Bud sat at the gate staring at the wood pile. He dove into the hostas growing by the foundation of the house, and once again pulled the bricks out of the hole in the foundation of my studio.
Between Bud and Zip, I don’t know how the chipmunks survive. Or why they choose to stay on the farm.
But then, he spent the whole day stalking chipmunks and never got one.
At the end of the day I called to Bud and he came running from the back of my studio. He looked tired to me and when I opened the back door to the house I thought I heard a sigh of relief.
Lately Bud has been going into his crate early at night.
I think his busy days going after the mice and chipmunks, who are trying to find a winter home under my studio and in the basement of the house, has him worn out.
As I write this he’s sprawled out in the biggest dog bed in the living room, snoring lightly.
