As the More is More Mom®, I’m all about………more of Wrigley’s heroism! On Wrigley’s tombstone (and there will likely be a tombstone) it will read, “Here lies Wrigley Nunley; friend to all.” No matter where we go, Wrigley is under the impression that everyone, man, woman, child or pup, would like the pleasure of making his acquaintance. Whether on the sidewalk, the street or the Prairie Path, whenever Wrigley comes across another pooch, he comes to a screeching halt; his front paws out stretched, digging into the ground, while his hind quarters are up, with his tail wagging, as if waving a white flag in surrender. After Wrigley meets his new friend, he happily resumes our run, on the lookout for more new pals.
Because he is more of a lover than a fighter, Wrigley is not your ordinary, garden variety Labrador. I always thought that Lab’s were known for their killer hunting instincts; proudly bringing half nibbled critters (bunnies, birds and rodents) home to their parents. Thankfully, Wrigley is not that kind of Labrador. He prefers to live in tandem with nature, such as the five bunny rabbits we’ve seen perched in our backyard and the army of chipmunks burrowing tunnels under our walkway (compromising the infrastructure. Surely, one day the sidewalk will just collapse, like a giant sink pit). Wrigley’s cute as a button as he lies on our front porch, his chin wresting on his front paws, eyes darting back and forth, from right to left, as he watches the critters make merry in our yard. Tom the Cat would be so disappointed (as one who wages a full scale assault against Jerry the Mouse)!
Well, the other day, as I was lugging groceries in from the garage, I decided it would be easier if I propped open the screen door that leads to my Mud Room. I was bringing in the last of the bags, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a flickering shadow. I did a double take, inspecting more closely, when to my surprise I saw a chipmunk climbing up my collection of umbrellas, darting across our chest of drawers. Naturally, I dropped my bags and started screaming. Seriously, who wants a chipmunk in their house? With my own cat like reflexes, I ran into the Mud Room, throwing the umbrella stand out of the way, slamming the door from the Mud Room to the Kitchen behind me.
With all of my screaming, Nick came to the immediate conclusion that Wrigley had been hit by a car. He ran with me out the front door, to his relief, finding Wrigley calmly laying in the front yard (very much alive). While I ran through the garage (continuing to scream) for a broom, Wrigley suddenly perked up, as if, after nearly 8 ½ years, he was alive for the very first time. Wrigley sprang into action, sensing danger, darting into the Mud Room. Thankfully, as quickly as I noticed the shadow, I saw the blasted critter, flying, like a bat out of Hell, from the Mud Room, with Wrigley in hot pursuit! I half expected to find that stinking chipmunk, having expired from a heart attack, stroke or brain aneurism in our driveway, with rigamortis setting in.
All hail to Wrigley; the Champion Chipmunk Chaser! Such a good deed, protecting his family from the wild, should be rewarded. Hot dogs for everyone!!!
More fright, more fear, more blasted chipmunks, more heroism….
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