I am sure that some of you already heard the woeful tale of our rooster being chased-- but I will repeat the story because this blog is also our family journal and I have it put in a book. So if you have heard it, just move on to the next blog you have planned to read and check back next time, so I don't bore you.
As you know, we have a cute little rooster named Chantacleer who is best buddies with our cats. Never in my life did I imagine that those would be my future family's pets-- I never was a big cat lover and a rooster? Well...
Our rooster is truly a free-range rooster. We don't plan on eating him since a drumstick from him would probably only amount to a half of a bite-- so hold the BBQ sauce. He is nothing but a pet. LL and SO can pick him up and hold him and he doesn't mind one bit. He squawks a little when you first try and catch him, but he is really very sweet. He struts around like he is hot stuff-- and in the rooster world he would be one of those roosters with "little bird syndrome" who says in a high pitched rooster squawk:
"Hey! You lookin' at me big guy? Why I oughtta...."
Our next door neighbors have dogs. I am sick of roaming canines mostly because we get to clean up their doggie doos in the warmer months. I carry pepper spray when I go running-- not for possible rapists or kidnappers, but in case a big German Shepherd decides he wants a snack, or a Doberman Pincer wants to jog along side of me. (It has happened.)
Our friendly rooster was out playing last week on a warm and sunny pre-spring day. LL and SO were out there, too. My friend brought her son over for piano lessons and she went inside to play with her kids while I taught him. As soon as I sat down for the lesson, I heard a blood curdling scream from outside. LL was crying. I looked out and her little rooster was being chased by the big black lab from next door. LL's friends were screaming at their dog to come back, but she wasn't listening. I ran out the door, barefoot and carrying a baby, and started to yell at the dog. Pretty soon I am chasing the dog, who is chasing the rooster. (Cue banjo picking music NOW...) They ran around back, I followed. They circled the house to the front again, and I went inside to head them off. By the time I got inside, my friend had opened the front door, the rooster had flown into her arms, and the dog (all muddy) was inside on our tile entryway waiting to grab the rooster. My friend kicked the dog out and the rooster flew into the shelves near my piano and huddled into a little feathery ball. I got the poor thing out and put it into the garage. We laughed and laughed about the whole thing-- after the initial shock had worn off! My neighbor agreed to let us know when her dogs were out so that we could avoid the same scenario.
Next week, same thing, different dog. This dog was a dumb puppy that was a pretty good size. The same EXACT thing happened-- at least this time I wasn't in the middle of piano lessons. This time, the girls were out playing dolls on the sunny front porch. This time, the rooster flew straight into the shelves by the piano as soon as the door was opened. THIS time, the dog wasn't AS muddy-- and he was small enough that I shewed him right out. HOWEVER, this time he grabbed SO's princess Barbie doll in his mouth, and took off running down the road. He was so fast and all I could see was a black and white dog carrying a blonde and pink object in his mouth with three neighborhood girls yelling and screaming at it-- chasing it down the road. He was down the road and around the corner before the girls got even within a stone's throw. He finally circled back around because he thought they wanted to play. LL trounced on him and grabbed the doll back-- all the while SO is screamed beside me on the front porch, "Get back here you stupid dog!!!" This time, I called the County Animal Control. The dog had no tag that told it's owner, so we tied it up to the porch with a piece of twine and let the impound come and get it. Whew!!
I gathered up the poor shaken rooster who was still suffering post traumatic stress disorder from his last chase, and stuck him in the pen out back. NO MORE!! NO MORE DOGS-- and frankly, as much as I love the rooster, he is getting his own little coop out back and he is staying in it.
11 comments:
I thought a big dog wasn't a doggo but a dogon. (accent on the last O.)
Yes-- you are right. Living out here has messed up my pronunciation. (Actually-- if I were from Malaga I would leave off the last syllable anyway.)
Oh, I love the adventures!
That is so funny..sort of...I can just picture the chase, and your girls yelling at the dog. Too bad you didn't have some video of that!
I love the pictures of the kids in the windows! Maybe there's some anti-dog plants that you could grow around your yard. Or some really big hedges!
Your life is too fun! Imagine getting your exercise each day chasing dogs and roosters. Sounds better than a stationary bike. Much more invigorating!
That is too funny....unless it is happening to you, then not so much. Darn dogs! Carrie has some great plans for a chicken coop that she designed herself. I'm sure she would share. She lost a couple of chickens to a dog too...unfortunately it was her own!
You don't need pepper spray. You need a .22 pistol, or a pellet gun at least. The Hyatts used to keep cats out of their yard with a bb gun, just ask the Cleverleys.
Ok, so in my new and extremely exciting job I get to prosecute the violators of the leash laws. Truly invigorating stuff. I protect the pet rooster of the world! I am glad the 'gicken is ok. That is a funny story.
You know, I live in the suburbs and our neighbor across the court has a rooster. It lives in a little coop in the backyard. I used to hear it occasionally in the early morning hours, but our house is not quite close enough to be bothered by it. I don't think his next-door neighbors liked it much. He had checked it out, though - no rules against having a rooster. Much to his neighbors' chagrin!
What a funny story! I can tottaly see you in that chase. Hilarious!
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