Molehunt

We’ve moved back to our apartment as our friends are coming back from vacation. No need to look after the dog anymore. I feel sad. I’ve grown quite attached to the little guy. He’s a loving and loveable dog, and I’m going to miss our walks, even those half-conscious ones at 6am after a whole night partying at Exit and the uncomfortable train ride from Novi Sad.
Indoors he is calm and quiet, but outside he becomes an uncontrollable torrent of energy. His favorite past time is digging up mole holes on a nearby meadow. He can spend hours digging until he can barely walk and collapses under a shady tree.
Unfortunately a few days ago leisurely activity turned into tragedy as he caught and, in the process, killed an unfortunate mole. He proudly paraded it around, and all attempts to get the dead animal out of his mouth were in vain.
Another hobby of his is that from time to time he likes to run away and although he doesn’t wander very far, he successfully evades capture and is not fooled by offerings of food or playful coaxing.
However, everyone has a weak spot. As Ivan put it: He likes moles more than he likes freedom. He was caught while he was digging, oblivious to the world around him. Just as the mole’s, the mole hole was his undoing. I guess, what goes around, comes around. Not that going home to get fed and being killed by a digging dog are very much alike. Bad analogy.
Anyway, the point is - as long as someone’s entertained, one can get away with anything. So don’t be caught in the mole hole.
Deep…