Dog Night Out

When I was 19 my mother bought me that book Smart Women, Foolish Choices after I broke up with my first really serious boyfriend. I think it was her subtle way of saying she thought I could do better. That book, followed by another subtle gift called Men are Just Desserts, started my life-long, journey in the world of romantic relationship self-help. If you need great relationship advice by the way, I'm happy to provide. Just don’t expect me to be a shining example of wedded bliss. I'm single. Always have been.

My Rat Terrier, Spike, has been my best companion for 13 years and that is enough to keep me from the blues. I rarely feel lonely, and when I do it's usually triggered by something heavy around my house that needs to be lifted or an appliance that needs to be fixed. At these times I seriously question my life choices. The go to solution is for me to hire a professional to do the heavy lifting and fixing. I figure I’m saving money in the long run for not turning to retail therapy like some women do to deal with a bad marriage. I have had my fair shair of broken hearts and listenend to enough stories in my circle of friends to be subtly influenced to stay single.

Men can be dogs. Some will turn on you without warning and others will faithfully pull their weight around the house making their wives happy. Maybe I had bad luck, or maybe I just didn't apply what I learned in all those self-help books. An unexamined life is not worth living, unless you have a dog. They will love you unconditionally and hang on your every word... as long as it's wrapped in a meaty treat.

My dog can’t lift heavy objects or pay half the bills unfortunately. And he doesn't produce eggs like my back yard hens do. Sometimes I bark at him for needing attention when I would much rather be left alone. A while back he woke me up three times in the middle of the night. Got me up out of bed with his crazy loud barking at 11:38 PM, 12:42 AM and again at 2:15 AM. The first and second time I let him out through the pet door in the kitchen thinking he justed needed to pee. Instead, he stood there in the grass looking back at me like he expected me to to join him. “This is not playtime, Spike.”

The third time he interrupted my REM state, I got the flashlight out of the drawer and stomped out into the yard after him. I had to find out what was getting him all riled up. There are bears in my neighborhood. Raccoons and possums too. I wasn't in any kind of mood to confront mother nature and once again questioned the wisdom of my choice to be single. In my opinion this was definitely a man's job. I could have called one, but at that hour, I didn't want my call for help to be misinterpretted. Also, I really needed my sleep.

I scanned the backyard with the flashlight and was suprised to see my five hens scattered haphazardly all around the property. They were sleeping right out in the open, like sitting ducks. When I flashed the light at their coop I could see the door was half closed, blocking the entrance. That has happened before when I don't properly lock the peg in place when I open it. That peg holds the door open and also keeps it closed. That morning I was careless. The hens had to find alternative accommodations to roost in for the night. It rained earlier that evening making me wait before going out to lock up the coop. I must have dozed off and forgot. Lucky for me, my boon companion remembered.

A wave of gratitude for my four legged friend suddenly washed over me as I went about one-by-one collecting my hens. I swore to myself that I would take Spike on an extra long walk that morning as a reward for being a total mench. I'd like to think I'm a woman of my word but the memory of that morning is a little hazy due to considerable sleep deprivation. My dog may or may not have gotten that reward. Maybe I'm single for being a selfish word that starts with a 'b' and means female dog. Thankfully, Spike puts up with me.

It is a lot easier to catch hens at night. Don't even try to chase one down during broad daylight. I assure you, you won't win. Here is a little unsolicited advice on animal husbandry, from a backyard flocker who has read a lot of books on the subject and recently failed to be a shining example.

If you want to round up a bunch of free range chickens, bribe them with cooked basmati rice. Throw some into their run and slam the gate shut after the last one waddles in. It works most of the time. Otherwise chickens scratching your arms and their wings flapping in your face will teach you how to hold them the right way. One way is with both wings tucked under your arm and torso. You can also hold them upside down by their legs. I know that last option sounds a little cruel, but I assure you it's not. Hold both legs in one hand while you rub their chest with your other hand. This hypnotizes and calms them down. It can make you feel powerful too, in a benevolent way.

At night, however, you can practically yell boo in their faces and they will just sit there cooing at you as if they are high on grass. When they are groggy they lack the will to fight. So I went calmly about the business of picking up chicks on my dog's night out.

As soon as Spike saw me putting the first hen back in the coop, he turned and ran back inside. I didn’t hear another peep out of him for the rest of the night. Ladies, let me give you some advice. Don't take your man for granted, even if he is a dog. He can pull his weight quite well when it really counts.