Of hedgehogs and attack dogs

The dog was barking. It was an unusual bark  – simultaneously excited and frustrated, different in timbre from her usual head-down-a-rabbit-hole bark, or her trying-to-climb-a-tree-after-a-squirrel bark, or her I’m-the-queen-of-the-castle guard-dog bark. I investigated. She was dancing like a demented show-pony around something she had found. Her prey was immobile, small and circular. It was a …