Do you remember my excitement about finally having eggs again? On last Friday, I got 9 eggs! Excitement city! Then, the very next day, Andy called to tell me that the dogs had killed 8 chickens.
E I G H T chickens. I had 25 hens and one rooster, so that left me with...let's see here, 25 minus 8 equals...[insert jeopardy music]...wait, let me use the calculator...15 minus 8 equals...7! So, that left 17 hens and one rooster.
But, when I got home...I only counted 15 chickens...14 hens and one rooster. So where are my missing 3 hens? Dang. No clue. No bodies, no one's talkin either.
And, no eggs for 3 days. Dang dogs, they killed my layers. But, then, miracle, we got one lonely egg, and last night, we had 3 eggs. Whew.
Now, in defense of my dogs...well, Kevin's dog and Miss Kat's dog, neither one is MY dog. The deceased chickens were either really stupid or it was a case of mass suicide, because all were killed in the Dog Pen.
So, picture this, a quiet Saturday evening. The dogs were quietly laying in their pen, listening intently for the sound of Andy's pickup, minding their own business when, suddenly, their space is invaded by a chicken. How dare that chicken invade their space just to eat their weeds. The nerve of that chicken. So, the dogs stealthily corner the trespasser, and attack in tandem. The chicken sets off the vocal alarm, alerting all her sisters who rush to her aid and then, while they had power in numbers, lacked mass and intelligence to escape the slaughter.
Their sanctuary quiet and peaceful once more, the dogs resume their slumber, surrounded by their vanquished adversaries.
That's the dog's version, anyway.