So The Lovely Rhonda decreed that we shall get another dog. Because our Large Main Dog, Otto, is aging and showing the first signs of impending decrepitude. He’s what you might call Such A Good Dog, in that he is obedient, gentle, barks to let you know when strangers are threatening your domain, and very politely declines to soil the carpets. He is also obsessed with The Ball THE BALL THROW THE BALL OMG THE BAAAAAALLLLL! But this is a personality quirk that we can live with in that it makes him very easy to entertain. We are known to occasionally allow a hapless visitor to innocently chuck the ball for him, not letting on that now they were condemned to throw it all day long, or at least have a slobbery hard rubber ball thrust roughly into their laps every thirty seconds until we put the ball away. If they ever come back we know they are our true friends. And if they do come back, chances are they’re wearing a cup.
So in light of all this Good Dog-itude, we felt he deserved a friend and also that it may make the transition easier on the kids when he does eventually shuffle off this mortal coil. TLR has been trolling various dog rescue sites and the Humane Society site and so forth searching for just the right dog. Finally we took the children to visit Jake, a terrier/weiner dog mix, at a dog foster home. We liked him but he’s shy around strangers and we weren’t sure he was the dog for us, but they had another dog named Chloe whom we took to immediately.
Basically she’s Otto in smaller form. She is ball-obsessed, friendly, well-behaved, and enthusiastic. She just wants to help! And chew on things. Her tail is a lethal weapon.
So TLR called the lady back up and said we’d take Chloe. The lady, sensing a weakness in the Force, convinced her to give Jake a try AS WELL since they are so bonded. And we could always return him if after two weeks he wasn’t the perfect dog for us. I think she sent a pinch of magical unicorn glitter through the phone somehow because TLR’s eyes became all swirly and now we have three dogs.
It’s been a couple of days now and the dogs are settling in very well. They are really nice dogs and seem to like us, and Jake is a waggy, licky, wiggly little guy as long as we have no visitors.
At this point you may be wondering what this has to do with chickens, and I can’t blame you. But don’t worry, I’m getting to that.
So I used to have chickens in the past and I’ve been yearning to get some again for a while now and TLR’s argument was always that if we had chickens we would have to get a pet-sitter when we left home because someone would need to let them in and out of their little house every day. Previously we could leave Otto overnight without a sitter because he has a dog door, a gravity feeder and a big water bowl, and we never needed a sitter for cats because they are cats.
But these new gold-plated dogs are the kind that need special dinner arrangements and so far have expressed a serious aversion to the dog door. I have hope that they will master it one day but honestly, they treat it like it’s going to eat them. So, yeah. We have to have a pet sitter now, and so TLR said on Facebook, “Well you might as well just get the damn chickens now blah blah blah.” I don’t remember what came after that because HELLO! CHICKENS!
Which is how we ended up scouring Craigslist for a chicken coop at 10pm on Saturday night, because we are losers who do stuff like that instead of drinking wine in fashionable night spots. And I texted this lady about her coop and the next morning our Good Friend Josh drove my sorry, coughing person to some total stranger’s house to look at a dirty chicken coop.
And then our sidingwallah Kenny’s girlfriend and daughter came in his truck (he was at work being gainfully employed, so inconvenient) and I stood around and coughed and felt wretched while they stuffed that coop into the bed of the truck. It just barely fit, with encouragement, between the wheelwells. How’s that for karma? And it was cheap too. And included some chicken wire, nearly two full bags of feed plus some other stuff, and did I mention it was cheap?
When I am no longer at death’s door I will put together a pen. And by “I,” of course I mean my neighbor Kathy will “help” me while I do my best not to look too stupid and clueless. Because I’m shamelessly inept at this kind of thing. But I lavish Starbucks and baked goods on people who help me, so it’s at least not too pitiful right? Right?
And then I will get chickens!!!