The talk in the yard; it sounds so familiar
Great expectations, everybody's watching you
People you meet, they all seem to hate you
Even your old friends treat you like you're something new.
I looked up from bill-paying in Farmer H's La-Z-Boy this morning to see Farmer H driving his Gator through the front yard. Chasing a Malamute/Husky-looking dog. It was a slow-speed chase, kind of like a Humpty-Dumpty with a melon head being pursued down the sidewalk by an angry mob mounted on Rascals. The white-and-brown-furred canine disappeared past the driveway, and Farmer H turned and headed back for the BARn. I figured that Ol' Blue Eyes had high-tailed it under our neighbor's fence and was their problem now.
But no. About five minutes later, Ol' Blue Eyes was at it again, running across the front yard. CHASING CHICKENS! I did not see any feathers ripped out, but that flock got to hoppin' in a panic and ran into the woods. I launched myself out of Lazy and ripped open the front door. "GIT! GIT! BAD DOG! GIT ON HOME!" Because of course dogs understand exactly what I'm saying.
Ol' Blue Eyes had the audacity to ignore me! She walked across the yard where Ann and Juno like to sunbathe. She sniffed a pile of what might have been two-day-old rabbit fur. She looked at me insolently. AND STRETCHED OUT TO TAKE A PEE!
Clapping hands did not deter her from her mission. I suppose she grew tired of agitating me, because she headed up toward the road, and made a left at the sinkhole. I called Farmer H to tell him we had a chicken-chaser. Yes. He knew. He said she belonged to our down-the-hill neighbors, and they were trying to get her back. Hmpf. Not trying very hard. They have four-wheelers and a golf cart and a horse and a pony. Did they hop on and come get her? NO!
Farmer H said he had been aiding in the capture of Ol' Blue Eyes. Uh huh. Putting in as much effort as her people. When I went to town later, Ol' Blue Eyes was in their front yard, where they were peering under the hood of their son's truck. She was free as a bird. No leash, no rope, no chain, no collar.
I hope she has not developed a taste for feathers.