Slow Morning

I hopped out of bed this morning, raring to go. Lots to do today, including errands: Navy Exchange, Commissary, Kmart and more. As I was racing to let the chickens out, I noticed Libby had caught herself a large rat and left it near Flash's bowl. Not wanting to have the chickens wait, given I have an egg eater in the bunch, I ignored the rat for the moment.

After the chickens, cats and dogs were fed I went into the kitchen to finish the grocery list and noticed that Flash wasn't eating. The following dialogue ensued:

T: Why aren't you eating?
F: There's a dead thing over there. (stares forlornly at dead rat)
T: Yes, I know I'll get to it in a minute. What's the problem?
F: Dead rat, mommy, in my space.
T: You're a HUNTING dog. Your ancestors used to chase down varmints like that over the countryside and vanquish them from the family farm.
F: But we never ate breakfast with them. (sniffs disdainfully)
T: Point.

So I took care of the rat, Flash ate breakfast and life continues.