That's Right Neighborly of Ya, Compadre

This past weekend the mountain man and I were watching t.v. in our bedroom (OK, OK, so we weren't exactly watching t.v. That's all I'm gonna say. After all, this isn't that kind of blog!---but it could be if I thought it would encourage more comments, dammit! Just saying).

So, there we were in the steamy hot throes of, um, Judge Judy, when I hear what I thought was a baby crying. (Talk about a mood killer!!) I leap off the bed (Alright..it was more like a seal in a death roll-sheesh!), and peak out the window to see this:

From New Window

And then this:

From New Window

It seems our neighbor's chickens and roosters were having a romp of their own. In. Our. Yard.

The mountain man proceeded to herd the invading game farm parade back to their own yard where we found about twenty more chickens, chicks, and roosters milling about. ( and yes, I am very sorry I left the camera in its case. We generally don't have it handy when, er, watching Judge Judy. Maybe that's why this blog doesn't get so many comments....

The owner of said chicken farm (referred affectionately at mysuestories manor as Foghorn Leghorn) was out herding sheep towards a cliff working, so the mountain man rounded up as many of the little errant chicks and cocks as he could and put them in their pen.

When Foghorn Leghorn arrived home smelling suspiciously like wool awhile later, the mountain man approached him about his encroaching fowl. The following exchange ensued:

Mountain man: I say, I say, Boy, your chicks are flaunting their tails all over our yard. You do know we have dogs, right?

Foghorn Leghorn: Si', senor. I will build a fence to keep them in, hokay?

Mountain man: Hokay. Just giving you a heads up.

Foghorn Leghorn: Muchas Gracias, Meester Mountain person. I haf already lost one cheeken to a stray cat, I theenk.

The mountain man and I exchange a glance and simultaneously reminisce back to a few weeks ago... (play dream sequence music here)
MYSUESTORIES: A Hen In the Pen, Sam I Am

Um, yeah. That cat? It was our dog. Rusty: Slayer of Chickens.
Like a good neighbor...We said nothing.

Two days later? Our Gamester/Dog Whisperer puts Rusty into our dog pen. Where apparently ANOTHER errant chicken had the misfortune to wander. AGAIN.

I guess Foghorn Leghorn hasn't gotten around to feexxing that fence yet. Sigh.

In the mean time, I am trying to catch that stray cat so I can pluck some cat hairs off of the thing and attach them to the chicken before I toss that dead duck (?) back into Foghorn's yard. Who says I can't be neighborly?

In unrelated news? Coincidentally, we had chicken for dinner that night. Some how, it just didn't seem right. But I guess if we can feed our dachshunds hot dogs, we'll get over it.