White Dog and the rest of the White Dog Army spent most of the day resting quietly, recuperating from Nuka's Gotcha Day celebration, and continuing to send positive energy out to those in need. It was a calm and tranquil day of giving pets and cuddling and just being together.
Our serenity exploded into the flurry of charging White Dogs barking a "RED ALERT!" intruder warning late in the afternoon. All followed White Dog through the dog door into the yard. Their vocal attack was fierce as they growled and yipped and howled and snarled.
A short while later, I saw the neighbor's cat skeedaddle over the wall outside my office window. The WDA came in breathless and unsettled. They spent much of the rest of the afternoon patrolling the perimeter and pacing.
When Michael came home and went out to complete his yard cleanup chores, their distress became apparent. Michael came in and asked how he should best deal with a big dead bird in the yard. He said, "It isn't pretty and I don't want the dogs to see this." I explained that they were already aware of the bird bloodbath and told him how to clean up the remains safely and efficiently. All five of the White Ones followed him out to watch.
After, he stood waiting for me to look up from the keyboard. I stopped. WD, Quinn, and Puffy looked up at me. "I hope the poor bird did not suffer," he said. "I hate that cat." The dogs grumphed in agreement.
"You cannot hate a cat for being a cat," I said. "The cycle of life is sometimes harsh. Instead let's take a minute to honor the bird's spirit and say a prayer that he flew straight to heaven." "Can we light a candle?" Michael asked. "Let's go out on the deck and do it now; the White Ones can join us."
"May he rest in peace," Michael said.