Looking out my backdoor

We are lucky that our back door is sturdy, because when Sir Huck decides that he wants to come inside, he flings his body against it with a force rivaled by very few other 55 pounders (perhaps only Gus). A few days ago, when I heard Huck's signature crash into the door, I opened it. Only after he hustled past me did I see what he had left on the doorstep. A dead, lifeless, squirrel. Given that Huck's favorite pastime is to stand completely frozen and stare as the squirrels run circles around the tree in our yard, I can only assume that he had absolutely no role in the poor animal's demise. But, resourceful red dog that he is, he must have found the victim in the yard and brought it to the door to show off his prize. Thanks for sharing, Huck.