The theory is that my dog believes all squirrels are filled with crack.
My dog was adopted from a shelter in Miami. This means two things. First, that we don’t know her early history. And second, that she lived in a city with a fair bit of drug traffic.
She’s crazy for squirrels. Absolutely flat-out, bat-shit, lose-her-damn-mind-and-attempt-to-climb-trees-which-she-can’t-do-cause-she’s-a-dog-not-a-cat crazy. The vocal and gymnastic displays she performs could get an unlicensed animal put down. And I have developed a theory that perfectly explains this behavior.
At some point, a desperate drug trafficker with more creativity than sense decided that he would evade detection by using squirrels as couriers. I don’t pretend to know whether he had a herd of the damn things, or just tried stitching a few grams into a single test subject, but somewhere a squirrel got loose. We can all agree that once that squirrel rode it’s stolen hamster wheel out the window and across a telephone wire to safety, it was too tired to climb a tree and just sank gratefully into the grass in a nearby park.
I think my dog found it. I think she ate it. And I think she’s been looking for her next hit ever since.