A garden snake and a frog live by or in the back pond. Simon, from time to time, has seen the snake. One evening not too long ago, the snake was in the water. Simon saw the snake and tried to catch it. The snake escaped and disappeared under a rock. Simon, in true dachshund fashion, would not give up looking for the snake.
Simon frequently sees the frog who lives in the pond. The other night the frog was sitting in the middle of the pond at the end of a very long strand of pond plant. Simon immediately saw the frog. Dachshund instincts kicked in and the relentless chase began.
The pond is lined with rocks, and Simon climbed on the rocks to pursue the hapless frog, to no avail, of course. Every time we go back to the pond, Simon climbs on the rocks to pursue something only he can smell—the invisible snake, the disappearing-into-the-water frog, or perhaps something else that visits the pond in the mysterious “overnight” the meteorologists are so fond of talking about.
Simon precariously circles the pond on the rocks, slipping, knocking rocks into the pond, sliding toward the water. It is impossible to see how such a long dog maintains his balance and does not fall into the water, but he does. Both ends work hard: his nose is constantly sniffing and snuffing while his tail wags rapidly—fwip fwip fwip. (That’s the sound Earl’s tail makes in Mutts when he wags it rapidly—fwip fwip fwip.) And so does his underneath—his four short but very sturdy legs and feet.
He goes back there to search for things even when we are not out there with him. I’ve heard the rocks moving as he circles the pond. What if he falls in and I am not there? Mary thinks he can climb out without any trouble. What if he can’t? What if he panics? What if he slips back in trying to get out? Worries, worries, worries. It is not easy being owned by a dachshund.