Two nights ago, Bingley asked to go out just as John and I were ready to turn in. We heard a bark-growl from Bingley followed by silence and a series of insistent barks. John went out to check on things.
Bingley had trapped an opossum against the back gate. A small pool of blood on the deck revealed that Bingley had done more than just chase his prey. John brought a very reluctant hunter into the house and went back out to determine if the critter had died of its injuries and a burial would be required or if it had slipped under the gate. Fortunately, there was no sign of the the opossum.
I examined Bingley for injuries and discovered a small split on the right side of his lip. Thank heavens for rabies shots! He let me clean the cut with hydrogen peroxide and began to insist on reconnoitering the scene of his conquest.
Of course, Magic caught the excitement and instead of retiring to well earned rest, John and I had to wash down the deck and monitor two very excited dogs.
We finally thought we had them settled and went to bed. I had been asleep for less than an hour when Bingley woke me again, insisting that he needed to go out. As I staggered around the deck trying to keep Bingley within the range of my flashlight, I realized that we had actually gotten off easily.
It was an opossum.
Not a skunk.