Deets got to go off leash today. She used her freedom to terrorize our animal neighbors. In this field over the hill I mistook the vast array of holes and tunnels for a rabbit warren. It is a prairie dog town. In the past visits to prairie dog towns I have heard some impressive squeaks. I’m pretty sure their adorable call is the reasoning behind the nickname whistle pigs. I have heard no such cute whistles among our neighbors in prairie dog town. These dirt-loving little dudes, when bothered, sound a true, klaxon. Like the time we were in Indonesia and the cicadas blared suddenly, loudly, and omnipresently; all so much so that I thought an apocalypse alarm was going off. Cicadas. I don’t really mind Deets startling some prairie dogs. She’s wearing bells, they have deep tunnels, there should be no harm. She sticks her front half in these holes and thinks real hard. I thought the prairie dog noise was a bird at first. I looked toward Deets halfway deep and realized the screech I heard more softly was doing its work to get that cat gone. As she removed herself entirely, the muffled yet intense siren ceased. I happened to be looking in the right direction when 10 seconds later a slinky brown rodent popped out of the earth 50 feet away, stood roughly a foot tall on hind legs, and rang its mighty klaxon with full force. Oh, these guys are good. I hooked Deets back on the leash, and directly found our way to leaving prairie dog town.