Wednesday, 12 November 2014

Dog in the chicken pen

"This has been a very distressing day. I'm going to spend a lot of time sleeping and grooming. Weasel and Muppet are hiding with Catwoman in her bedroom; Muppet under the bed, and Weasel close to Catwoman. I don't expect to see them any time soon. We all need time to settle. So, what happened, you ask? I'll tell you what happened. A dog. A dog is what happened. 

This morning started out as any other day, but then I noticed that the chickens were unusually noisy and running all over the place. They were obviously ill at ease. Then I saw the chicken pen. It was closed. The chickens were outside. Inside the chicken pen is now a large, golden dog. I remember thinking to myself: 'What is a dog doing here? This is not a place for dogs!' Besides, as far as I know, dogs don't live in chicken pens.....

I heard voices from the main house. Catwoman echoed my sentiment: 'He is not supposed to be here! Where is his collar? Have the neighbours forgotten it AGAIN? We have young chickens and peafowls, he'll just slaughter them! We already lost a full grown peafowl the other day. This is not right!' (This is just the sanitised version of what she said. I left out a few colourful adverbs).
Yes, I thought, he would easily have those young ones for breakfast. Even I am not allowed to come near them (for they do look tasty). The dog, however, is MUCH bigger than me. Snapping their necks would be simple for him, including the necks of their parents, the peafowls, and, coming to think of it... mine. I'm not that big yet either. That realisation really struck. I was getting more and more nervous now. My heart was hammering in my chest as if it wanted to jump out.
So I did what cats do: sit safely behind a window and keep my eyes GLUED on him. He was not going to catch me unawares!
Whilst keeping watch, my thoughts drifted to a conversation I overheard from the Elegant Lady. She was talking to the Gentle Man about a huge wall that had separated a large city for many, many years. She called it: 'the Berlin Wall'. Apparently, it was very hard to get from one side of the city to the other. Some people even died trying to do so. 
It sounded very drastic, but I couldn't help but wonder if that was going to be good solution to our problem. Meanwhile, the chicken pen was also doing a good job protecting us. 

MUCH later.....

Finally the neighbours came to pick up their dog. They trotted up the hill, all smiles. By this time, my eyes were getting a bit strained from focussing on their dog. I even tried not blinking, which turned out to be very hard. Meanwhile, Catwoman had such a headache that she was not coming to greet them. She stayed in the bedroom with her cats.
Fortunately, Fruitbat is home. He is a stern man. He was calm and friendly to the lady and gentleman, but made it Ab-So-Lutely clear that this is not a good place for a dog. The lady splutters a bit... explaining that HER dog is such a LOVELY dog with a gentle nature.... It has no effect on Fruitbat what-so-ever. He simply repeated that this place has young poultry, cats, guinea pigs and a kitten. (eh, yeah, that would be me!) 
After that there was nothing to be done but for them to walk down the hill with their dog. All three of them were looking slightly deflated.
So now I can relax, and my heart can stop making such a racket. I have some serious grooming to do. I could also use a few cuddles and massages. And biscuits. And sleep."