Wildlife Mystery Theatre

So the thing go into our garbage again last night.

Since I have seen neither hide nor hair of raccoon or possum, I have been assuming that it’s the large feral dog, an elderly black-lab mix that roams the neighborhood and which I assumed has been helping itself to the trash. I see it around occasionally, generally when I nearly hit it with the car in the evening, and my neighbor complains about it, so I had it pegged as the likely culprit.

Except that today I noticed something odd. I went out on the deck, noted that the trash had been knocked over, and furthermore, some of it was…halfway…up…a…tree…

This gave me pause. Dogs, while resourceful and adaptable animals, are not known for their skills in saplings. I do not believe they stash Pepperidge Farm bags in the crooks of handy poplar trees. Granted, it is the south, things are weird and alien here, but I don’t think the dogs have mastered the art of scaling trees yet. Foxes, maybe. Dogs…not so much. Hmmm.

Back to the raccoon-or-possum drawing board…

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