“Feisty” is not just an adjective. According to most definitions, a feist is a “small mongrel dog, especially one that is ill-tempered; cur; mutt.” The less-perjorative definition includes some squirrel or small-varmint hunting acumen.
And Manny is becoming feisty in the light of his less-active condition.
You see, he got neutered last week. It’s a long story but not worth the re-telling, except to say things are going fine in the recovery dept. The incision is healing well and he doesn’t seem any the worse for wear, except for the boredom that comes from ten days of relative inactivity as requested by the veterinarian.
There is a bright side: We are working on obedience skills (again), and there’s no prohibition on standing steady to wing-shot-fall. But no running means a less-than-happy two-year-old wirehair. No amount of chew toy destruction can substitute for the balls-to-the-wall (pardon the pun) joy of full-out sprints in the desert beyond our back gate.
So, Manny’s inner feist is coming to the fore as he tracks and trees fresh squirrel scent among the pines in our yard. And he does that well.