Going to the dogs

Pete Rathbun's letter to the editor last week regarding irresponsible dog owners took on new meaning for me last Friday.

Someone's dog(s) living near Sun Mountain dug under the chicken yard fence and killed all my laying hens. It even chased one into the hen house and mauled it there. Unfortunately, it happened while I was in town, or I might have stopped it - like the last time when I lost two of my prize Buff Orpingtons and a beautiful Araucana to a neighbor's dog.

I guess I should have known it was coming because about three times a week I'd go out in the morning to feed my hens and find a nasty dog dump right next to the fence, and at times even on my back porch.

I can not fault dogs that poop on my place and kill my chickens; that's what some dogs do. And once they get to killing, they just can't stop. It's those irresponsible, non-caring dog owners that allow their dogs to run loose that I have problems with.

"Oh, he's a nice doggy," they say, but that "nice doggy" still wanders loose, poops all over my place and kills my chickens.

I know it wasn't coyotes that did the job to my chickens, the tracks don't match; besides, they haul off what they kill, and raccoons do the same. The hens were mauled by a dog that just got carried away with the game.

In truth, I was so upset by the slaughter that I just left the poor old hens laying where they died. Saturday morning, when I came out to take care of the old gals, lo-and-behold, they were all gone! What I hope happened is the dog(s) came back for more fun-and-games, and finding only dead chickens decided to haul them back home.

If so, the owner must have a bunch of chicken guts and feathers all over their place.

If the dogs didn't haul them off, perhaps some coyotes were passing through, and discovering all those dead chickens (11 of them), and shouted to each other, "Wow! Can you beat this!" And ran off with their bounty.

Unfortunately, I no longer have a method of instantly recycling kitchen scraps and turning it into fresh eggs. My wife, Sue said to me, "What now, no fresh eggs and what will we do with all our kitchen scraps...?" Buy eggs and make compost, I guess.

On the other hand, if all my neighbors were like my immediate neighbor next door, Harold and Teri, the world would be a happier place when it comes to dogs; they keep theirs penned in. I rarely hear them barking unless they have something important to say, and when they do, it usually means we have company.

Like Pete Rathbun, we too have to listen to the other neighbor's barking dogs all night long in summer. So, I'm with you, Pete; you aim your ghetto blasters in my direction, and I'll aim mine your way and we'll see who howls the loudest, or calls the sheriff first.

But, it would sure be nice if the person whose dog came home with chicken feathers all over its face would come by and at least apologize. I won't hold my breath.