This afternoon, between dropping stuff off at a friend's house, taking a bag to the charity shop, and forty other errands, I heard a heinous racket coming from the front window. I went into the living room to find Sloan going ballistic over
a ferocious beast a hedghog the size of my foot.
She's brave, you know.
I've desperately wanted a hedgehog in our garden ever since we moved here, but I figured that they, like most other wildlife, would decline fraternizing with the Small Fries. I've found hedgehogs (singular each time) at my compost bin a few times, but never had a permanent hedge-resident like some of my friends. We were lucky enough to have what Paul called a chupacabra but what I am pretty sure was just a fox in some brush in our back garden last winter- but no hedgehog.
Okay, so he's already left, so not a permanent resident. I put out some cat food (the recommended food) and started snapping away- but the poor little dude jumped with every shutter click!
I managed to get a few, though, and I'm happy!
I love his little ears!!
Paul got home while I was out, and when he called me to ask where I was (we'd been planning to meet up. Whoops!) the first thing I asked him was "YOU DIDN'T HIT THE HEDGEHOG, DID YOU?!?!" and turns out our neighbor's toy poodle was barking at it when he got home. So I'm guessing the hedgehog decided the cat food is not worth the insane dogs at this property. Sad.