You may remember that Cooper's conviction in the murder of Dixie the Chicken was overturned. And he received a public apology.
What happened to Dixie remains a mystery.
What happened to her sisters is just a few days later is, unfortunately, a sad, sad story, with NO DOUBT about the guilty party.
|OMG. WUT? WHODUNNIT?|
|OMG. IT WUZ ME.|
We were inside watching the Hatfields slaughter the McCoys, while out in the yard another slaughter was taking place.
I didn't see the gory scene. But I did see David's face as he whipped off his flip flop. I did see Cooper slink guiltily away after getting his bottom paddled with said flip flop. And when David told me all three of the chickens were gone, I did scream and cry so loudly that the neighbors came outside to see what the hell was going on.
Cooper had never been in so much trouble before. And yet, there's only so much you can do to a dog who is following his natural instincts, you know? He got caught red-handed, so at least he knew exactly what he was in trouble for. But he didn't really seem SORRY.
David gave him a bath and it was time for bed, but there was NO WAY that we were sleeping with a chicken murderer who'd gotten away on a technicality. Not to mention he was soaking wet and we were SO MAD and SO UPSET with him.
So, for the first time EVER, we closed the bedroom door and made Cooper sleep on his dog bed in the living room (it felt almost like the equivalent of life without parole).
I think David was more devastated than I was, as he'd invested much more time and energy into the chickens. And even though we both knew that it wasn't Cooper's FAULT that he was SO! INTERESTED! in those chickens, it still felt like a betrayal. Fratricidal maniac.
I was ready to be DONE with the chicken thing. Enough drama and trauma and death in the backyard already. I am stressed out enough without that shit. I felt mopey and depressed about the chickens for days.
But David was bound and determined we would have FRESH! EGGS! THIS! FALL! He'd also spent a lot of time building a pen and invested a chunk of money in buying the house, and he was unwilling to let the dream die. So... he brought home three more chicks.
In order to ensure he was not bringing them to their deaths, he also brought home several yards of sturdy, heavy-gauge fencing and built another fence all around the pen and the chicken house. This one is decidedly Cooper-proof.
Also, Cooper now gets squirted with a water gun if he gets too close to the fence.
The new chickens remain nameless, as I am trying not to get attached to them. This isn't that easy because they are actually friendlier and more docile than the First Generation.
So... I am thinking of calling them Rose, Blanche, and Dorothy. But that is NOT official! They are NOT my pets! Because my only pets are total shithead dogs! Hmm. Maybe I need to rethink who lives outside in a pen...
It took David a few days to work through his disappointment and anger, but he and Cooper are buddies again. Meanwhile, Cooper and Little Mac are adjusting well to our new sleeping arrangements, and (surprise, surprise) our queen-size bed is much roomier when we're not sharing it with a fratricidal puggle.
|dogs in their dog beds--a novel idea!|