By Becky Holland, firstname.lastname@example.org
The sky is blue, the air is crisp and the dog is running from window to window barking like a maniac.
Since we moved into the old house in the Boro, this has been a typical scene with him. And with good reason. But now, I think I am going to have to put him in therapy.
We live in rural Texas, and animals and fowl of all sorts are sure to be seen roaming about. In the city, though, you wouldn’t expect some to be scrambling around freely.
During the summer, our neighborhood had a passel of chickens and roosters that would just walk around from yard to yard. The gansta chickens gave my poor Toby fits. He wasn’t used to seeing a chicken live – for him, chickens came in small nugget size and fast food cartons.
I won’t forget the first time we were outside and two of the chickens showed up in our yard. I am not sure who was more surprised – me or the dog. He couldn’t decide if the funny looking creatures were foe or friend, so he backed up and jumped on my leg. That is his signal for me to pick him up.
After having a few run ins with gansta guineas in Madisonville and a rooster with an attitude, I was not too sure if these chickens would be friendly either. So we went in the house. Whenever they showed up outdoors, we went indoors. Toby would paw, bark and growl at the windows whenever he spotted the birds in the yard. The day one showed up on the front porch and pecked at the window pane in the door, Toby decided then and there that he hated chickens.
The chickens have not been around in a while. My mind can only guess where they went.
I said something outloud one day, about the chickens being gone.
I swear Toby smiled.