I love my dog. I really do. But damn, he seems to make it his life mission to cause chaos.
Last week, he ate 2 of the 3 wubbanubbas (pacifiers attached to stuffed animals) we have. Those things are $15 each, not to mention Parker's favorite thing ever. We NEED those.
The week before, Rex (the dog) took out half the lattice covering the open space beneath our back porch. Why? He was trying to get the cat. They don't exactly get along.
He's ripped up countless stuffed animals, chewed plastic toys to bits, devoured my left rain boot, and shredded my oh-so-precious yarn collection (I cried). He's even ripped up his very expensive dog bed and removed the majority of its stuffing. I'm assuming it was too lumpy for his tastes.
But today Rex set his sites on our fluffy little flock, and I still can't believe it.
I'm partly to blame. We have a fenced in backyard, so the dog and chickens take turns. Rex was inside his room--the laundry room--which has a door to access the back porch. I heard the loud, hollow thump of naughty chickens pecking on the porch. They're not allowed on it because of their lack of toilet training. They have the whole yard to poo in. We don't want it on the porch too.
Anyway, there are two doors to access the porch: Laundry room door and living room door. I open the living room door to see Arizona and Alex--the asshole rooster--making themselves at home by the laundry room door. I squawk at them to scare them off, but they don't budge. Alex and his stupid cohones.
So I try another idea. I go to the laundry room, thinking when I open the door, the swing of it will scare them off. I am armed with a broom just in case Alex tries anything. Well, opening the door didn't work, they just moved out of the way. So I open it more, attempting to gently scooch the stubborn fluffs off with the broom. Rex decides I need help.
Before I know what's happening, Rex dashes out of the laundry room, sending Alex and Arizona in a feathery flying frenzy.
Some more quick info on Rex: He's a purebred, red PitBull weighing in close to 100 pounds and most of it's muscle.
Some quick info on me: I am a timid, 130 pound, scrawny woman who does not do well in emergency situations (just ask my husband).
So for the first few seconds, I am a deer in headlights as Rex tries to tackle the two unfortunate chickens on the porch. When I'm finally capable of comprehending what's happening, I start screaming at Rex, trying to get him to leave them alone. It works for toys, but apparently not fluffy creatures. Alex flies off the porch, while Arizona attempts to go through the wood railing. She gets stuck at the thighs, looking like a yellow feather duster from behind. Rex immediately loses interest. Fluffies that don't move are no fun! He dashes off the porch after the rest of the flock, sending them every which way in a flutter of feathers as they try to escape.
Rex has moved his game to the yard, but I'm barefoot. I quickly grab my muck boots from the laundry room, pull them on, and prepare to chase Rex down. I hesitate for a moment when I realize Arizona is still stuck, trying to decide if I should pull her out, but Rex has singled out one of the chickens, and I decide I need to catch him first.
As I approach Rex, who is enjoying chasing the fluttering bird all over the place way too much as I shout uselessly for him to stop, I realize he's chosen Alex as his target. How fitting.
The rest of the flock either went back into the coop or hid in the arborvitae trees closely planted down one side of our fence. The trees are huge, around 20 feet tall, providing excellent shelter for the terrified birds. Alex attempts to hide there too, but Rex is not discouraged. He ploughs in after him, chasing Alex until he's wedged between a rock and a hard place, or in this case, a tree trunk and a wooden fence.
Alex is far too large to be completely protected in his spot; ruffled feathers stick out on both ends. Rex runs from one end to the next, trying to grab a mouthful of something other than feathers but not having much success.
I have to admit, as I waited for the perfect moment to grab Rex by his collar, I contemplated letting Rex finish Dr. Kurev off. He would have deserved it, after all. Maybe this whole thing was just Lady Karma at work. And as easy as it would have been to let Rex follow his instincts, I didn't have the heart to let him kill Alex, even if he deserved it. I looked at that terrified fluffy douche and felt more compassion than he deserved.
Once Rex was in an optimal capture position, I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him all the way back inside and shut him up in his crate. I have never been more grateful for the power of adrenaline.
After Dogzilla is safely contained and can no longer wreak havoc on the poor citizens of Backyard Farm Town, I patrol the area, expecting mass casualties. To my surprise, however, all fluffies were accounted for and seemingly unharmed. Well, except for Alex, who was still in a horror-stricken huddle between the tree and fence. He suffered from a bruised ego and possible mental castration.
He eventually emerged from his hiding place, but he didn't hold his head quite as high as he used to. It's amazing the things that put you in your place, that remind you you're not invincible.
It's also amazing the kindness the world could be capable of if we gave it even to those we didn't think deserved it.
Moral of the story: Give kindness without requirements, restrictions, or reasons. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
And maybe only let disaster strike when your husband's home so he can handle it. ;)
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