Friggin chicken is still here.
When I let the dogs out this morning, he was strutting around the yard as if he were trying to figure out where to have the pool installed.
Then it was “chase on.” All we needed was music from “Benny Hill” or the Keystone Cops to complete the scene. Psycho Chicken squawking, running, flapping, with the barking dogs in hot pursuit, running through the rose garden, the herb garden, the woodpile. Tools, pots and tomato cages flying. The dogs bumping into bushes, tree trunks, each other… Psycho Chicken safely outdistancing them… me yelling.
Do my dogs have selective hearing? Or are they practicing “intelligent disobedience” since I obviously don’t understand the danger from fleeing poultry?
I called Animal Control. “Do you do chickens?”
They wouldn’t send someone out because by the time anyone could get there, it would be gone, but if I trapped it, they would pick it up. She explained that it is difficult to catch chickens, especially one…”Did you say it FLEW into your tree?” Did I detect a snicker?
Finally Psycho Chicken flew over the fence and disappeared. All was serene in the neighborhood once more until we went back out near sunset. This time he flew to the fence, squawked a few times and quickly flew into the tree.
OK. He came suddenly, he won’t stay long. Denial. I love denial.
Sometimes when you ignore a problem it will just go away...