Willie and the chickens.

Willie. That's what we had been calling the stray dog that popped up here on Saturday. I named him William, after Britain's Prince, but we were calling him Willie and he seemed to like the name. He also seemed to like it here, sleeping on the porch, following us around the yard, trying to make friends with the cats through the screen doors. We were thinking about keeping him, even though he was a much bigger dog than either of us would have wanted. But still, he seemed like such a good dog. Until this morning.

Then Willie remembered he was a dog, and dogs chase chickens. And sometimes, dogs will catch chickens. Willie caught Daisy, which set all the chickens to screaming. I heard the screaming and the barking at the same time. By the time I got out of the house and over to the coop, Daisy was caught inbetween the slats of the picket fence and Willie was laying on the grass in the middle of hundreds of chicken-feathers, with his belly ready for rubbing and his paws pointing towards the sky. Oh Willie. (Which is exactly what I said to him.)

I didn't even raise my voice to that dog. He was just doing what a dog will do, and unfortunately, Daisy was the target. Right now, Daisy is in the coop, with a bloody gash above her right leg, her right wing no longer able to fly, and her right leg a bit twisted. As for Willie... we brought him to the shelter just a little while ago. Which is what we had decided to do last night, but still, we were both thinking about keeping him because he was just so good.

Oh well. We really didn't want another dog. And even if we did, we wouldn't have went out looking for such a big dog. The larger the dog, the larger the vet and food bills, and the more care and time they take out of your life. We didn't want a big dog.

But, if Willie hadn't tried to make a meal out of Daisy, maybe he'd still be here. Maybe. But I doubt it. Every dog we meet from here on out will forever be compared to Gracie, and neither one of us believes there's a dog out there who can out-shine Gracie-Girl.

Once again, I am sitting here wondering why people who no longer want their pets can just bring them out to a country road and drop them off. There are animal shelters in every town... take your unwanted pets there. Or better still... if you know you can't give a one-hundred percent commitment to a pet, then just don't get a pet, damn it.