But in other "happier" news, we recently procured a small four legged creature.
Actually not that small. 38 lbs of high maintenance dog.
Random story: I was at work, paying for my children to be at the sitter so my husband could concentrate on moving when I get a picture of a dog texted to me. Knowing there was no way my husband was anywhere else besides our storage room or our house, I thought it was a joke.
Turns out it wasn't.
The ADD had set in and my husband showed up at the animal shelter. The next day he tricked the kids into falling in love with an animal that was way too big for our small backyard.
So we all went back to the shelter. When Hayden was first released from her kennel, she charged at me and knocked me to the floor. Out of excitement, I'm told. The whole time we were there, I kept trying to drop reasoning comments such as "Wow, this dog has a lot of energy." and "Hmmm. I bet she takes a lot of exercise and I'm really busy as is." and "Well if our backyard had a fence a small, small dog might make sense." and "We can absolutely not leave with this animal."
But alas, Hayden has found her new "furever" home. And things went really well for the first 48 hours. Which, to be honest, was 47 hours more than I was expecting. I had lots of help. She calmed down. But then good old regular day life reared its ugly head. Chase went back to work. And I am completely on my own.
Knowing this breed (she's a German Shorthair Pointer) requires a lot of exercise and stimulation, I try my best with her.
For example, I now GET to spend my lunch hour driving home to let her out.
I GET to get out of bed 30 minutes early to feed her and throw her ball for a while.
I GET to come home to find my trash can contents spewed around the kitchen.
Aren't I lucky?
Back to the title of this post. I picked her up one day on my way to go get the girls from P's house.
P has chickens.
Hayden is, by nature, a bird hunting dog.
I was going to keep her in the garage. But the kiddos didn't know she was in there and left the door open when they came through.
Did I mention these chickens are free range chickens?
When I heard Hayden was let out, P and I looked at each other. She said,"It'll be ok."
When the bestie has hesitancy in her voice when she says it will be ok, it probably won't be. Two minutes later, Natasha came in and said with a matter of fact tone, "Hay Hay's killing a chicken."
I ran outside to hear a chicken screaming. It's a sound that will never escape me. If I didn't love chicken so much, I would probably stop eating it. My own child was crying (I mean SOBBING) in the corner as she held her dog's back legs with every ounce of energy in her body.
The dog had a mouth full of feathers. And was frantically pawing her way forward.
The chicken had rammed itself into a two inch crawl space between the coop and the fence. And it was screaming for its life.
Let's just say the next few minutes were a whirlwind that involved me pulling the dog off. Her escaping and trying to dive under the coop. The kids screaming hysterically.
It was a scene of mass chaos.
Amazingly the chicken survived. A few tail feathers gone but otherwise no worse for the wear. Isabelle was taught a mighty fine lesson that day.
Bird dogs kill birds.
That's the end of the story so far. Except for this little gem.
Last night Chase tells me on the phone, "I don't know why you are so stressed out. Dogs are supposed to your friend, your constant companion. Just love her a little more."
The five minutes of silence that followed were me Googling divorce attorneys. I'm not even going to fight him about dog custody.
Just kidding. I was really looking up how to ship an animal to Virginia. I think Chasey needs some constant companionship in a 10X12 hotel room. Don't you?
