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Approximately thirty-two year ago, I had this little dog named Foo-Dang, which, I have been told, is Thai for "Damn Red Dog." My Father who had been stationed in Thailand had come up with the name.
Yet, don't let the name fool you. He was more like an overgrown hamster mixed with a Yorkie. His hair was long and he had bits of black mixed into the red coloring. His face was very much like a yorkie and he loved everybody. He was just one of those "always a puppy" adorable dogs.
Still, he thought he was the big dog on our small piece of property. He took it upon himself to guard us with all of his little yaps at passing dirt graters and owls setting 100 feet of the ground. The owls would ask, "Who?" and he would respond with a bark that let that questioning bird know "ME! That's who!"
Yes, he was very brave. He would actually only stand behind small bushes when someone approached even when the big bushes would have hid him better. Still, he would also bark at our chickens.
The chickens lived in a big cage that was elevated about four feet off the ground. Roughly about four feet above his head if you discount his huge stature of 10 inch's.
Each day it was the same ritual for me or my brother. We would go to the cage, gather the eggs and feed the chickens. All the time trying to keep from stepping on that damn red dog. He would jump up and at his pinnacle let out a high pitched bark that sent the chickens scurrying around in their cage. Ever put your hands into a cage of flapping birds? He would do this while we were working with them and for a few minutes after we had finished.
On one such occasion, my brother finished the job and shut the door. Foo-Dang jumped - Bark! He jumped again - Bark! He was just letting the Chickens know that he was the boss. Jump-Bark, Jump-Bark.
As I walked out the door and headed toward my brother to help him carry the eggs in, Foo Dang made another leap- BARK! And the door flew open! My brother had forgotten to latch the stupid thing.
With feathers flying the bird landed in front of our pure breed mutt with its feet already running. It resembled a Willy E. Coyote and Road Runner film festival with a dog that was half the size of the chicken! All that was missing was an ACME Cannon! I watched in amazement as the Guinea Pig sized pup ran for all he was worth to get that bird!
They ran past the bush and around the car then, past the bush again. Features were flying and I was expecting the chicken to be bald by the time we caught the dog. I ran the opposite direction to head them off and they cut under my father's 1969 Dodge pick up.
Sliding to a stop, I quickly changed directions to go to the other side and ran smack into my brother who still had the eggs. It was like the current chest to chest bump that you see pro athletes doing, but with two teenage boys that had eggs between them. That day I learned that you can actually squirt eggs. It gave a whole new experience to the term of having egg on your face.
So, with yoke dripping from my chin and covering my chest, I stepped around my brother who was now standing there with egg all over him as well. As I slide by him, it dawned on me that my younger brother had a "OH GROSS" look on his face that was mixed with shock and dismay, but I was still trying to save the chicken.
As I reached the front of the truck, I saw Foo-Dang with a mouth full of feathers shoot across the drive way still trying to bite that bird's butt! With a slimy yellow beard I was chasing meals on wheels trying to catch them before Foo-Dang had his first chicken dinner!
I watched in horror as the white clucker ran under the wood porch deck as the would be chicken mauler finally grabbed a mouth full of chicken butt! My eyes were wide with fear as I heard what must have been the slaughter of that poor chicken. There was barks and clucking as a few feather flew out. My mind was racing through the carnage that must have matched the horrible sound.
Then it happen. There was this shrieking yelp of pain. I imagined the blood. The barking stopped. I imagined the gore. It grew quiet for a second. Then another yelp and it dawned on me that it was the dog crying out in fear and pain! OH THAT POOR DOG!
Suddenly, Foo-Dang flew out with the chicken pecking at his butt, slapping him with its wings, and grabbing the poor dogs rear end with his claws and we were off to the races again! I never knew a chicken or such a small dog could run that fast. Then again, if something twice my size was biting my tail, I think I could run pretty fast as well.
I chased them toward the pick-up and watched them disappear under the front as I heard that poor dog yelping for help. The chicken was beating him with its wings, grabbing him with its claws and pecking him to boot! I yelled to my brother who was at the other end of truck, "They are coming out on your side!" Needless to say, they turned and came out in the middle. One of those "best laid plans" thing.
My brother, still having egg on his hands, got a bright idea and whistled for the dog. As the dog mauler chased him, Foo-Dang headed for the only comfort he could find. The arms of anybody that could keep that chicken away.
I headed that direction and caught the chicken as my brother caught the dog.
Interesting enough, that dog never did bark at the those chicken again
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Thanks for reading my story. Hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment.
