Monday, July 6, 2015

Chicken race

This morning I made a mistake. I turned around for the proverbial "two seconds" that it took to reach for the lid to the container of cooked chicken for Sir Oscar the Dachshund - and a whole chicken breast was off and running. Over the river (couch) and through the forest (8 basset legs) it ran, heavily pursued by other members of the household. It appeared to be much like a circus parade of sorts, minus the
yelling (me) and hissing/snarling (them).

Gulliver, who had launched this entire terror run must have realized he was outnumbered. A grand leap over the army of hounds brought him and his free-range bird back to the counter but the approach wasn't well thought out and the speed of the slide-landing carried cat AND chicken back off the other side. I'm still not sure how the trio of howling hounds managed to miss that he was back on their level....but they DID...and while they remained looking UP he dashed into the bedroom bearing his bird. Thankfully they did not see him and I'm please to report that much bloodshed was avoided.

Slamming the bedroom door allowed him the chance to finally feast. I have to say, he won it fair and square and spent the next then minutes alternating between growls, purring and chowing down. All I cared about was that I came away from this episode with all my hands and arms and no one made a trip to the ER.