Busted

me, most notably.

Eska did well yesterday. She was quiet on our morning walk, she was quiet when I left her to go to Mrs. Hopkins' house, she was equally complacent when I again left her to go Halloween shopping with Auntie Jen and Auntie Shana, and she was calm (relatively) at her release when I got home. She fought the urge - helped by much of our negative prompting - to get into the remains of our pumpkins as we carved them, and she didn't even cry when Aunties left.

She stood by the door before they even had their coats on in a gest that usually means "I need to go (#2) ... take me out." She never wears her choke-collar for these trips, because they are usually brief, direct, and devoid of any distraction.

Eska did NOT, in fact, need to go. What she *did* feel the need to do is sniff out a rat in our alley, drag me around the block chasing it at top speed, and resist my attempts at halting to such an extent that I fell knees and palms first into a (small) pile of gravel. My ONLY decent pair of jeans are now no longer; more importantly, my knee, which I thought was only scratched, is veritably busted: it is painful, today, to move it in any direction.

Well, I hope it was worth the excitement, Skarri. Perhaps someday, you will realise that rats, much like squirrels, because they are ubiquitous in Baltimore, are not even worth the chase. Supply well exceeds demand. The novelty is gone, Eska. Move on.