“Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn’t know this burrow was occupied!”
Eustace blinked in sleepy amazement at the long nose and ears in front of him. When he realized it was a dachshund, and furthermore, that this dachshund was not only not biting the scruff of his neck and dragging him out of the burrow, but was mumbling apologies and withdrawing, Eustace couldn’t help himself. He poked his head out.
“Again, so sorry to disturb you!” said the dachshund. “My mistress was asking me to find an empty burrow around here somewhere so the squirrel she’s about to release could have a safe hiding place from the owls and whatnot. But I shouldn’t have just stuck my nose it without announcing myself!”
Eustace couldn’t stop a wheezy chuckle. “You’re just lucky the landlords weren’t in.”
“Oh?”
“Foxes, my good man. If it was their kits you’d stuck your nose in on, you’d likely not still have it attached.” As he talked, Eustace was keeping one eye on the dachshund and one eye on the horse that was riding up to the edge of the wood behind it. It had a girl on its back, bundled up against what was an icy, sparkling wind that afternoon. “You ran all the way behind that horse from the village, did you?”
Now it was the dachshund’s turn to bark a laugh. “Certainly not, good sir. I rode up behind Miss Violet in the saddle. Between her and the squirrel.” He pointed with his long snout, and sure enough, behind the girl a wee cage came into view stuffed with straw and a certain fearless resident rodent.
“You all right?” Eustace called to Elsie. “The owls have been worried sick.”
“I’m all right. Just banged up. That fool dog.”
“Oh, she talks!” The dachshund exclaimed.
“Of course, walnut brain. Just not to you!” Elsie spat back at the dog. Intrigued by the fuss, the girl turned her horse toward Eustace’s burrow, prompting him to retreat hissing into the entrance.
“Tell your daft owner that squirrels don’t live in the ground! Tell her to look up, or anywhere other than here, really.”
The dachshund blinked at him. “You can tell her. She understands us.”
“She…what?” Eustace stammered. But Elsie had heard enough, and she hiked herself up on her back paws in the cage, wrapped her front paws around the willow stays, and screamed at the girl.
“Let me go!”
Violet yelped something in reply and abruptly reined in her horse, who was puffing in steamy amusement at the quarrel unspooling in front of him. The girl hopped down from the saddle, sinking to her knees in the snow, craned up and took down the cage, set it gently on the snow, and opened the door.
Elsie was too stunned to move for a moment. She just stood there in front of the open door, her mouth hanging open. The dachshund wagged its tail happily, and Eustace groaned. “Elsie!”
That seemed to shake her out of it. Quick as a spark from a fire, she leapt out the open door and straight up the old oak that stood behind the burrow.
The girl was saying something now and looking straight at Eustace. The dachshund made him a little bow. “She’s calling me, good sir, and apologizing for the trouble. Name’s Danforth. A very good Advent to you and your landlords!” And with that the little hound bounded through the snow back to his owner, who scooped him up and tucked him in her coat before clambering back up on her horse and turning him toward the village.
The Rookery 