“Squirrel!”  I suddenly darted toward the fluffy critter while my friend Oakley pranced behind me.  I could not resist it.

                “Roxy… little pooch!”  The puny varmint called my name, antagonizing me! Angrily, the blood flowed through my veins, and I bared my sharp, boxer dog teeth while I watched the snooty squirrel dance in the trees, which were scattered throughout my backyard.

        “Roxy, what are you doing?” I heard Oakley whinny behind me. Oakley, who is a little Welsh, chestnut pony, has a boatload more to learn about us dogs. After all, she was born only two months ago.

                “Grrrr…” I had no time to answer her because the squirrel had climbed down from her tree to grab some pecans, which were spread on the ground.   Although I crept silently, the squirrel saw me out of the corner of her eye and raced back up the tree. “Dog gone it!”  The annoying squirrel had escaped from my reach once again. Sadly, I watched in despair as the furry, little snot stuck out her tongue and shook her fat, bushy tail at me. 

“I’ll catch her next time,” I thought to myself. Slowly, I trudged back to Oakley, who was calmly standing under a tree, and lazily flopped my speckled belly onto the ground.

                “Roxy, why do dogs chase squirrels?” Oakley asked because she was confused by the whole dilemma.

                “Well,” I began, “Squirrels and dogs have never gotten along. Since the beginning of our kinds, squirrels have just pestered us dogs. They… They… Ooooooh, they just make me angry!” I howled with frustration.

                “Oh.” Oakley replied quietly, realizing how badly I wished payback against all squirrel mischief. “If you ever actually caught a squirrel,” Oakley questioned, “what would you do with it?”

                “I don’t know,” I answered. “I have not thought that far in advance.

No matter how hard I tried to control myself, the wild wolf inside of me pestered my brain. It whispered, “Catch that squirrel! Prove that you are a dog worthy of being respected! Don’t give up, or imagine what other brave dogs will think of you!”

             I had no other choice. Failure was not an option. Certainly, I would have my opportunity to strike! Little did I know, my chance for success at my dog-honored task would arise, sooner than I expected.

        After a short nap under the towering pecan tree with Oakley, I decided to venture back to my doghouse for my afternoon meal. My food bowl was empty! “Drats! This is the third day in a row my Kibbles have disappeared!” I quickly noticed some familiar paw prints sprinkled across the mucky yard, heading away from my bowl back in the direction of the soaring tree in the distance. Absolutely no thinking was needed.  Following the trail of tiny prints, I promptly found the culprit perched high in the treetop. I realized it was the sneaky squirrel who had been stealing my food and likely storing it away for the rapidly approaching winter season. As terribly as I craved revenge, I knew I must be patient to catch this unpredictable thief.   

        Silently, I crept behind a bountiful berry bush, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.  Within the hour, as expected, my plan fell into place. The squirrel scurried down the tree trunk, heading right towards the berry bush that hid me from view. I had little time to waste. Without much thought, I leapt into action. As I darted around the bush, charging toward the unsuspecting, furry- faced crook, I stumbled right over my favorite plush toy, “SQUEAK,” which sent me nose- diving into a fresh, steamy pile of my pony friend’s poo!  Cackling from the nearby fence post, I could hear the inconsiderate squirrel who had escaped from my grasp once again.

    “Nice try, little pooch, but you’re going to have to do better than that to catch a sophisticated, expert like me!” the squirrel chattered as she rolled her eyes in my direction. 

    “Keep rolling your eyes, you ugly tree rat! Maybe you will eventually find a brain back there!” I snarled. Down in the dumps and covered in icky, smelly, manure, I trudged my way over to my dog pen to try and freshen up. 

    With my coat tidy and my spirit in need of a lift, I started back in the direction of Oakley’s pasture to retrieve my plush toy which I stumbled over earlier in the day. As I grew closer to its last know location, I ran into Oakley.

   “Hey, Roxy! What are you up to? Headed to bark at the neighbors again?” She neighed.

     “Actually, I am heading over to recover my favorite plush toy that I tripped over this morning. You haven’t seen it lying around here have you?” 

    “Are you talking about your giraffe plushy with the squeaker inside of it?

    “Yes! That’s the one!” I barked in delight. “Where did you see it?”      

“I found it quite odd, although I was equally impressed that you were able to hide it up in that tree over there. How did you manage that?”

            The second Oakley uttered the word tree; I knew that my precious plush toy had been plush-napped! Obviously, it was that dirty, rotten, spiteful squirrel who must have seized it, and I knew exactly what she wanted it for. “That no-good scoundrel is going to slay my plushy! I know that squirrel is after all the fluff inside to use for her darn nest. I must hurry and catch that squirrel before it is too late!”

Hearing the scorn in my voice, Oakley inquired, “What can I do to help?”

            “Can you give me a boost?” I requested.  “If I can stand high enough on your back to reach that first branch, I believe I may be able to reach the nest.”

            “My back is your ladder!” The funny filly announced. “Hop on up!”

 Without delay, I jumped.  As I inched my muzzle closer to the nest, a faint humming sound began to tickle my ears. All of a sudden, a swarm of angry bees were zooming straight at me!

   “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” I wailed in pain as the savage bees began to sting me. 

            Swiftly, the frightened foal flashed out from under me as the bees turned their aggression toward her.  I landed on the ground below with a loud thud.

    Climbing higher with my beloved toy, the squirrel threw acorns along with insults down my way as she disappeared into the treetops.

     “You, mangy, pathetic pooch!” The squirrel squabbled. 

    “It must be difficult for you, exhausting your entire vocabulary in one sentence! I’ll catch you one day!” I retorted. Now my bottom was not the only thing battered, bruised, and beaten; so was my ego!