Fowl Mood

Remember when I said that my gorgeous 4-legged boy doesn't cause any chaos now? That there are no more incidents, now that he's all grown up? Yeah, well, I lied. A big, fat, honkin' lie. There was chaos this morning. There was an incident...

First, let me explain a few things about me and animals. I love them. I do. When I was younger, I worked for a vet and I volunteered at the SPCA. OK, so both jobs broke my heart and I had to quit, but I tried. Because I love animals. I've always had pets... budgies, hamsters, gerbils, rabbits, dogs, etc. I can't imagine my life without some critter to buy kibble for or who sheds all over my stuff. I love them. I have wondered, however, if perhaps I might have owned a slaughterhouse in a previous life... or maybe I was a trapper... or a furrier. I don't know. But my animal Karma seriously leaves a little to be desired. There have been a few incidents in recent years... incidents involving squirrels, geese, a mad cow, a camel (yes, a camel), and a cat (click here to read my friend Mel's account of that attack)... incidents I didn't cause but in which I was maligned... mauled... smacked-down... chased. Unpleasant incidents. There was such an incident today...

I should also tell those of you who don't know, that although I love animals in general, my goodwill does not extend toward fowl. Fowl are foul. I don't know why but many fowlish sorts of creatures give me the heebie-jeebies - namely turkeys, chickens, geese, and pigeons (are pigeons technically fowl?). Now I would never do any harm (unless you count eating chicken and turkey as harming... semantics, right?) but I don't like them. Truth be told, I'm actually afraid of them. Again, I've no idea why. I should try past life regression therapy one day to find out.

Anyway, today's Karmic incident involved a goose. A Canada goose to be specific. I really don't like Canada geese. They are gigantic rats with wings... nasty, pooping, scavenging, noisy bastards. A few years ago, I had a run in with three Canada geese while rollerblading. I'm ashamed to admit they got the better of me. And they laughed about it. And I'm pretty sure I recognized one of them this morning. Nasty, pooping, scavenging, noisy bastard.

So... back to my dog. My lovely, sweet-natured, well-behaved, darling, completely chicken-shit dog. Actually, he's very brave... if he's on his leash. Before he barks or lunges at some other dog or animal at the park, he always does this little check to make sure he's attached to me. If he is, he'll bark and lunge away. If not, he glues himself to my hip and shuts up. Yeah, he's smart. So today he was on his leash. And we were walking by the pond... which was full of nasty, pooping, scavenging, noisy bastards. There were a bunch on the bank and Sundance, after doing his leash check, did his little barking-lunge, which he likes to do at the ducks to make them squawk and fly into the water (which is funny, actually). A bunch of the geese did just that. One of them did not. Clearly pissed off, he came right at my dog (and me), wings and neck extended, head down, honking his nasty, pooping, scavenging, noisy, bastard guts out at us! Sundance, ever the brave one, yelped, turned, and ran like hell, tail between his legs. Still attached to me, he jerked my arm back and I slipped on the bank, as it's all frosty, and down I went, face-first, being dragged by my terrified dog who was at the other end of his 20-foot flexi-leash. And that nasty, pooping, scavenging, noisy bastard was still coming at me! As he closed in, I buried my face in my arm, waiting for the assault. I didn't have to wait long... that bastard PECKED ME IN THE HEAD! Sundance grew some cojones at that point, and ran back toward me, barking, which scared the foul fowl and he turned and flew into the pond.

Have I mentioned that I hate fowl? I do. Oh yeah, and my dog is grounded.