Have I mentioned that I hate animals? Cuz today reminded me of that little tidbit. I pulled into the driveway to the scene of a loose coonhound chasing chickens and, lying dead on the porch, evidence that she was pretty good at it. Calvin stopped the current chase down with one wild chase down of his own. After unloading and putting away groceries, we commenced to doing farm chores, since Daddy was at his first Cross Country meet and wouldn't be home until after dark. When the boys brought me eight multi-colored eggs from the nesting boxes, I almost forgave the chickens for their transgressions.
Then, we began the impossible task of catching the escaped coon hound so he couldn't take out any more egg-layers.
To make a long story short, we tried, we failed. We tried again. And again. An hour and a half later, Reed, Max and I were loudly yelling, dancing, and driving dump trucks to create a distraction while Calvin, dressed up "as a plant" with leaves on his head, army crawled over toward the cage we'd lured the dog into. He would pause every time she stopped eating our bait and then slither closer. He was almost to his target--the door to the cage--when a dancing dump truck driver moved too closely and spooked her. This was the final attempt. It was 7:35 and we hadn't even had supper yet. So, we trekked inside for quick PBJ and bed time.
I just talked to Ryan on his way home and filled him in on what awaits him. It's 10:00. He's threatening the shotgun for that dog. If I would've known that was a viable option, I coulda saved him some time...