I was sitting on the couch in the family room working on a Christmas project, watching TV with half and eye, and ignoring the noises coming from the dining room. Since I and the animals were the only ones home, I knew noises weren't a good thing, but being totally involved in my project, I didn't want to check out the source. I had a pretty good idea whence the noises emanated, and I didn't want to deal with it.
Ray had been lying beside me with his hound-head on top of my shoulder examining my work, but when the noises started, even though the head didn't move, the ears deployed and the eyebrows started their dance of inquisition.
After a few minutes, the hound-head removed itself. Ray sat alertly, looking in the direction of the noises. After a few minutes more, the big, curious dog could stand it no longer. He levered himself from his spot on the couch and, neck outstretched to the max, went to investigate. I sighed and started to put aside my work, an involved process taking several minutes.
I heard a GAK, then another, and another.
Thinking perhaps that Ray had eaten something he shouldn't, I dropped my work in a heap and hurried to the dog.
Ray was standing over a dead vole, his ears fully deployed, his head tilted to one side. Juno, the murderess, had retreated behind the dog gate to the laundry room and was remotely keeping an eye on her prize. As I watched, Ray lowered his head and cautiously sniffed the dead thing. He GAKked recoiled in revulsion, then did the same thing again, then again.
Apparently dead voles are repulsive-smelling to dogs and it takes several sniffs to establish this fact. I retrieved a wad of paper towels and removed the corpse from the room.