I have an acquaintance who is a great dog owner/guardian (the phrase we have to use within hearing range of In Defense Of Animals). He walks at the same unrepentantly unregulated park (not for long as the State Park system is arriving with dog banning rules and regs any day now) as I do. He walks pretty speedily around the perimeter trails with his pugs (I'm not a great pug fan) and he is so blatantly in love with these snub nosed oinks that he has a 'got pug?' bumper sticker on his car. So, I like this guy. He's British. What's not to like?
He also is the less than proud o/g (see above) of a young full on bred dachshund. I like dachshunds as we all know. In fact I am so besotted by Oscar, the 17 year old who came to spend a weekend in September 2005, and never left, that I am contemplating a website dedicated to his passion for getting lost and for eating cat shit covered in gravel. The site will be called 'Where Is Oscar' and should rightfully lead to a fat book contract for Oscar, and a talk show, which would be aptly titled 'Oscar Talks Trash'.
But Nick's dachshund wasn't on his walk this morning. And Oscar, Roo, Calvin, Frank, Roxy and I noticed.
'The dachshund has been bad', Nick said. So bad in fact, that he had worn himself out and he had refused to get out of bed this morning to come to the landfill.
Nick looked a little embarrassed actually, and then blurted out 'someone brought two chickens to our house. I thought it would be nice to have chickens running around'.
A sort of bashful smile crept across his face as I, as anyone would, looked at him with the only phrase that comes to mind at moments like this. 'Have you done much reading about dachshunds, Nick?'
Nick guessed that the chickens were less than happy with their new home. One had become instantly featherless at the paws of the little hunting dog, and the other had barely escaped the same fate. I don't think the chickens are going to stay at Nick's for long. The dachshund was shaking for most of the night, with anticipation and glee. I said to Nick 'Just bring a whippet in for the day to finish the job, it'll be a quick twist of the neck, and as the chicken is already featherless, so much faster to prepare for roasting.'
Back to lesbian dramatics tomorrow.
you know that 17 year old daschi you house is great with chickens.. maybe not their poop but definitely trustworthy with fowl. he had a brood of 22 for a long time. one was his walking partner. but as we know oscar is one in a jillion (yes that is a word and I will use it in scrabble).
Posted by: aida | April 20, 2007 at 10:34 AM