Chicken Killer.

This is Casey, our 12 year old Husky/Mutt.  She is an old, sweet, partially toothless dog we have had for over 10 years.  Other than a serious vendetta against any and all squirrels, she has never hurt a soul.  She does enjoy an occasional role in dead fish or a slide through fresh manure.  Aside from that, the picture above is pretty much an action photo. 

Well, last Friday the old girl outdid herself.  She slipped out of the backyard through an open gate and proceeded to amble over to a neighbor's house two blocks away.  A batshit crazy neighbor.  With a poorly defended chicken coop.  The result wasn't pretty (I know because Ms. Batshit showed Mrs. French pics of Casey's handiwork. Two dead chickens, a three day trip to the County Pound, several hundred dollars in fines, and a sign in our window that looks like this:

That's right- our county considers dogs that kill chickens to be every bit as dangerous as dogs that bite kids.  It's more a case of the law not catching up to the idea of urban chicken coops than any conspiracy, but at least we don't have to worry about solicitors now.

We initially felt awful about the whole thing; we assumed the chicken owner would have young kids, and we were worried we wouldn't get Casey back.  It turns out Huskies LOVE to kill chickens, according to the folks at Animal Control (who found the whole episode a bit silly).  Yesterday Batshit pulled up and began berating my bride about our deadly beast (I was gone at the time.  Getting  a massage.  My wife thinks this is pretty precious).  She is middle-aged.  And her kids are grown.  And she is openly trying to shake us down for her pain and suffering.  I seem to have lost a bit of my empathy.

It is really nice to have my old fat dog back.  And I am sorry about the chickens.  But I don't like the Chicken Lady.

Mr F

One of Portland's more interesting commuters

Last week we were cutting through a neighborhood to avoid rush hour traffic on the main arteries.  We saw this guy:

I managed a pretty sweet pic out the window of the car.  So, a unicycling juggler.  Probably standard issue for any circus, but there was not one in town.  Nor was he just practicing- we saw him well ahead of us, and he was making good time.  Plus, the backpack leads me to believe he was commuting, either to or from work.  If anyone I worked with ever showed up with a unicycle and juggling pin-thingys the rest of his co-workers should promptly stomp a puddle in him.  For reals.

I was brainstorming for a less efficient or more complicated method of transport:

1.  Ice skating on concrete while shuffling cards

2. Hopping on one foot while braiding your hair

3. Crawling on your knees while eating soup with chopsticks

Hell, I don't know.  This was just plain weird.

Mr. F