I woke up this morning, and on my way to make the coffee I noticed that Ginger was curled up in her doggie bed with something small, gray, and fuzzy that I couldn't immediately identify. I figured it was probably some old toy she found in the yard yesterday and brought back to bed with her. So I started a pot of coffee, yawned a few times (I was only about half awake) and then went to have a closer look.
It's a dead squirrel that she apparently killed, then brought back to bed with her. Ugh!!
When I started freaking out and yelling, did she look guilty? Not a bit. She couldn't care less.