The Dog's Tales: a series of posts in which Tilly has her say....
Big drama while walking in a field close to our house this morning: I caught a young rabbit...to my own surprise, I admit. I run to love and chase but I've never before actually caught anything. My Person was alerted by the bunny's loud squeals and said, "Tilly! Drop it! Drop at once!" So I did. Honest. And no harm was done. The silly little critter had had a bad scare, but it scampered away and it seemed alright.
I, however, was marched home in disgrace, which didn't seem fair to me at all. I can't help it -- I was born on a working farm, and I come from long lines of hunting dogs. The desire to chase is bred deep in my bones. Living here in farm country, however, I've learned that I mustn't chase sheep, or cows, or bullocks on the Commons, or the wild ponies that come down from the moor.
"And not bunnies either," my Person now tells me. "Not when you're living with a bunny-girl painter like me." All these human rules are confusing sometimes, so she's made me this helpful chart: