It was a doomed relationship from the beginning. The light and love of my life, my English bulldog, Roxie was just a little too curious.
You see, it's become vogue to keep some chickens about the place even on the city lots. Yes, chickens. Live ones. Can you imagine? Chicken as pets. Chickens as food. Chickens as humane efforts. Yes, they rescue chickens. Bo Pilgrim would be proud.
Any way the neighbors, the one's that have come from the state or Arkansas have been delighted with this development. They've got white chickens, brown chickens, red chickens...and alas, boy chickens. Yes, roosters. Normally docile and simply watching over their flock, this birds give call to the morning quite early.
The first time they did this, Roxie almost broke down the door. I had learned to keep the two separate. But one morning Roxie had gotten me up especially early to relieve herself and we were out in the pre-dawn hours. The rooster, safely behind the fence, hopped up on a fence post and let a shrill screech that sounded like a cat being killed in a wood chipper machine. Trust me. You don't want to know how I knew that.
Roxie was stirred in her predator soul and ran straight for the rooster. The rooster, confused that something had come close to his safety zone managed to hop from one fence post, over to the other.
Now, a 50 pound bulldog cannot change direction at full speed. She is rather like a juggernaut. As the rooster hopped, Roxie's eyes followed the prey but found the distance between her and the former perch to be too short to change. I think she closed her eyes as the post gave a "doiiiing" sound. Roxie had been at full speed. And, she promptly sat on her rump, the loser in the game of physics.
The rooster was a real bitch though. It saw the weakness of my beloved dog. There was nothing that could be done to save her and the rooster new it was his one chance. A flap of wings, the look of horror from Roxie and skirmish erupting sending Roxie coming back to my home at top speed with a rooster riding her. I couldn't be sure, but it appeared the rooster was riding side saddle.
Roxie ran past me and into the house, rooster still attached. She crashed into the stove and much to the chagrin of the rooster a pot shook lose from the cooktop and feel upon the duo. Knocking the rooster out cold and sending Roxie scampering for other rooms where perhaps safety could be found.
I pondered what to do. An unconscious rooster and a panicked bulldog, all before morning coffee.
I did consider plucking the rooster but that seemed like poor sportsmanship. So, I took it and hurled it into it's own yard. It awoke flapped, fell over. Flapped again. Enough of a sign of life that I excused myself back to the house.
Needless to say, Roxie no longer barks at the chickens. And I haven't heard the peel of the rooster in a week. When the neighbors showed up with a pot of chicken dumplings to share, I could not help wonder if it was indeed the old red rooster. Either way, it was t