Saturday, November 26, 2016

The Path To Neighbors Is Paved By Giant Paw Pads

We have seen a resurgence in neighbor-dog invasions! Not the Evil Poodle and Killer Rot. They have stayed across the road, sitting at the end of their driveway, barking at me. No, I'm talking about the sleek copper-furred muscular dog of the side neighbor. They are letting him run loose again, and every five minutes he's dashing across the front lawn of the Mansion, headed for the chicken area. Even the #1 son took up a weapon and tried to BB him on Thanksgiving day.

I don't mind Copper too much, because he's more of a nuisance than a cold-blooded, territorial, future instrument of my demise. He HAS chased Farmer H's prized (in his mind) turkey up into a tree, with Farmer H right there in the yard. And even though chickens have been disappearing at an alarming rate, we've only found one body at the edge of Copper's yard. Jack romps and plays with him. My Sweet, Sweet Juno is nervous. She does not like him in our yard, but is too ladylike to put a fear into him. She whimpers and sits nearby while Jack wrestles Copper like he plays with Juno. When I step out on the porch to yell at him to "GIT!" both Jack and Juno chase after Copper, barking, like it was their idea to run him off. Then he comes back five minutes later.

Yesterday I started to town by opening the garage door with the doorbell button on the inner wall. I walked around the front end of T-Hoe to open the driver door.

AND A DEEP BARK WARNED THAT I WAS AN INTRUDER!

Uh huh. Copper was standing at the edge of the concrete carport behind the garage. Barking at ME! That should not happen. A neighbor dog should not act like my domain is his property to protect. I hollered at him, of course.

"GET OUT OF THIS YARD! GIT! GIT HOME!"
Because, you know, dogs understand English.

You know who really understands English? Your neighbor next door. Standing in her yard opening the door of one of her four cars (they're a lot like us, Farmer H went to school with the mister), just about 50 yards from your garage-yelling.

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is probably in the neighbor's doghouse right about now. I know that Jack goes into their yard. Missus Neighbor has asked Farmer H if that little spotted dog is ours. I saw him in there myself, in the brushy part (on their side of the fence) that divides us, chasing out a rabbit. And Jack is a barker as well. Still, these neighbors don't have domestic fowl or livestock. I know Jack isn't over there every five minutes, because I see him in my own front yard.

There's a path worn from our driveway, under the barbed wire fence, into the brushy neighbor yard, going toward their porch. I'm pretty sure Jack didn't wear down that brush. I know he's low to the ground and all. But he only weighs 12 pounds. Juno doesn't go over there. She sits at the fence and watches. Copper, on the other hand, is a big fella, probably 70-80 pounds.

I think he's made his own personal freeway to get up speed for chasing the turkey.

2 comments:

Sioux said...

HM--It sounds like Copper is going to get to enjoy a Thanksgiving feast. It might come late this year, but it sounds like it's going to come.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
He might get a feast so big he can't finish it. TODAY he came over to the driveway while I was walking, and barked at me. It was unsettling. When he looks at me, it's not malicious. It seems like he's a simple fellow, who does not understand the meaning of NO or GIT. Or much of anything besides barking and eating and humping. Poor Dumb Ann was a Mensa candidate compared to Copper!