Traumatic Sunday Afternoon

So here's the story Joe and I were happily in the kitchen making muffins (which went horribly wrong. Why? I have no idea)

When I notice from the corner of my eye through the window, my darling angel puppy Toby moving very quickly in the garden, like lightening in fact!  I decide to investigate and to my horror, he is playing with one of the poor hens that had bravely ventured through the fence of the farmer next door.

A very guilty looking Toby!

Chaos ensues; I forget all grace and find myself running up the garden screaming like a total mad woman, so much so my throat is sore! When I get nearer the scene the hen looks near dead but still fighting to escape, I scream, Toby lets go and the hen runs free.  But no Toby decides he is not finished, quickly grabs the hen and proceeds to swing it round by its wing. 

I must have summonsed some authority in my wailing, as I did eventually persuade him to let go.  The poor hen that had now accepted certain death, opened his eyes looked at me, and ran for his poor and now quite bald little life.

Once I had ordered my demon dog back to his bed I took myself to Farmer Johns front door to break the news. I felt so bad almost although I had caught, and nearly killed the chicken myself.  I confessed to Toby's crime to which John replied, "Stupid Hen, she won't do that again will she?"

As I sit here looking at my disgraced little angel, the crime scene in full view, full of what seems like hundreds of brown feathers. I ask myself how this angel of a dog who is so well trained. Has excellent manners, always does exactly what he is told and never even so much as barks or shows any sign of aggression, can turn in to the devil at the sight of a little brown Hen. 

I have checked on the victim’s welfare and fortunately he is alive if not extremely traumatised.