This morning I took Baci over to the farm that surrounds our property. I was throwing the ball for him with the ball thrower, relishing the fact that we had, essentially, a space ten times the size of our former Brooklyn dog park to ourselves: huge, open fields of closely-cropped grass for us to play fetch on.

While chasing down one of the longer throws, Baci trailed off and began sniffing his way through a nearby pumpkin patch. He had his nose to the ground, pacing with intent. I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was doing until I saw a pair of ears pop up about ten feet from him. A small dog, maybe? It looked like a shiba inu. Then I saw the big bushy tail. It was definitely a FOX. It stood dead-still, focused on Baci sniffing the ground nearby.

Baci’s ears pricked up and he turned right toward the fox. Both froze for a moment before exploding into chase. I could see their tails weaving through the pumpkin patch, the fox making quick turns to try to lose Baci. The fox then cut out for the open field.

Baci must have been tired after twenty minutes of fetch, but he was in serious pursuit, and ran like a little racing dog, gaining on the fox. Over the course of fifty yards or so, Baci began to catch up. I thought with half-concern and half-fascination that he might actually catch the poor thing.

Just as he was nearly within range, the fox turned sharply, plowed through some long grass and under an abandoned shed. Baci stood, wagging his tail and staring at the spot where the fox had disappeared.

After a few moments, Baci went off to find the tennis ball, trotted it back to me, and dropped it at my feet as if nothing had happened, totally unfazed and uninterested in anything other than the next throw.

tags: baci, country livin' | link to this entry |