Down by One

I alluded to something in my last post that marks a significant milestone for me. Unfortunately, it wasn't captured on camera, because mother typically does not bring her phone on walks. (And even if she did, let's face it--it's a flip phone. I get a little embarrassed when she whips it out in public.) So you will have to use your imaginations.
  I should probably add a disclaimer. Here it is: if you are squeamish about varmint death, then you might want to stop reading.
  Two weeks ago, mother was walking me through an Arlington neighborhood. I was already on high alert because that week was particularly squirrelly (nice weather). We cut down a side street that is known in the Courthouse canine community as a hot spot and as I scanned the area, I saw a young squirrel nibbling on a beer cap in front of a nearby house. The beer cap was a promising detail: obviously this snimal was not particularly clever. I approached from behind a large oak tree about 15 feet away, flattening my spine and tail. I like to get as low to the ground as I can, even though I usually have either father or mother clomping around behind me. I then creep as silently as possible, watching the target for signs of sudden movement.
  The squirrel and I faced off. I could hear mother chattering in the background but wasn't listening too hard. Everything faded from view, sounds became very far away, and it was just the squirrel and me, the hound.
  Suddenly! He dashed away from me, up the side of the house. Mistake. Even a squirrel can't grip brick. He fell to the ground and scurried back towards the tree--second mistake. I had quickly positioned myself in between the house and the tree, and the squirrel ran right into my waiting jaws.
  Victory was mine!! In my year in the city so far, I had chased many a ground-dwelling mammal, but until that day had not been successful. And it was thrilling! I know this is an unfamiliar feeling for humans, since in your world hunting and killing have entirely different ethical and moral implications, but I am a hound whose breed is specifically designed for squirrel hunting. Imagine being a writer and finally getting a book published after years of effort. It is a fulfillment of your true self--the same is true for my first successful squirrel hunt in Virginia.
  Oh dear, now mother would like to intercede. She would like to describe the rest of the scene from her perspective. I don't see why that is relevant, but since has recorded my thoughts so far I might as well let her to it.
  Hi there everyone. Lea here. I feel that it is important to mention that when this happened we were standing in full view of a) a regular stream of sneaker-clad Arlington commuters and b) an elementary school. So, yeah, a little awkward. After Harvey dispatched the squirrel, he stood with it bunched up in his mouth and the tail hanging down, with a look on his face of "WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!" He wouldn't drop it and I didn't want to touch it so I stood there arguing with a dog with a squirrel in his mouth for a good 5 minutes...commuters walking by and all. He had his jowls stretched out over the squirrel like those pictures you see of the dogs with like 3 tennis balls in their mouths and looked totally goofy. He eventually dropped it, but spent the rest of the walk with a giant dog smile on his face and a self-congratulatory spring in his step. And now the squirrel population in Arlington is down by one.