She is desperate for a fluffy playmate her own size and has decided that the chooks are just the thing. And she thinks her love for them is reciprocated. But it's not.
Nosireebob they do not like her. When they see her, they go scuttling. And that is her cue to start chasing them up and down the chook run. I have been spending way too much time fortressing up their runs with rope and bricks and super dooper pet wire. But every so often Wokee finds her way in. And then she sets about tormenting the poor creatures. If it has been quiet inside for a while I get a sudden panic up and go in search. Sure enough I'll find Wokee in the chook shed, cuddling a poor fluffy chook. She hasn't seemed to do much damage to them. Yet. Most of them squawk and flap their way to safety in their upstairs house but the tamest ones just squat down for her and subject themselves to the torture. Sometimes I'll find feathers in her mouth.
I just wish one of them would give her a good peck on the nose to teach her to keep her distance. But they are too friendly. Or stupid.
Anyway, it does serve me right because when I was longing for a dog I did consider the chooks. But secretly I was thinking that I would raise the perfect dog. One who not only did her business where I told her, but also never barked or dug up the garden or chewed the lounge suite.
Oh well. She is only a puppy. And I really need to do something to make the chooks happy again.
So unless anyone in blogworld has some fabulous tips to train dogs to ignore chooks I think I am going to have to take the drastic measure of running a fence down the middle of my backyard and splitting it in two. Unsurprisingly, Monkey Man is adamantly opposed to this proposal. But I think it could work. The half up close to the house is where we have our table and chairs and fruit trees and mostly ornamental plants. The back half houses the chooks and veggie patches. And it is from here that Wokee would be banned. Unless a human was about to supervise her. We have an ancient, peeling gate that I am imagining in the middle of the yard painted turquoise or purple.
But this is a job for which I will require Monkey Man's labour and skills. And I am yet to convince him. When we first started co-habitating he needed persuading to re-locate the stinky old kitchen compost bucket to the cupboard under the sink instead of on the bench for all to sniff. He sees the extra effort required to open a door as a big problem. Sigh.
|Who me? What did you say I was doing?!|