Chicken Run

When we walk Mr. Taco in our sprawling suburban neighborhood, we have two choices: the Little Loop and the Big Loop. The Little Loop is three quarters of a mile; the Big Loop is two miles. Taco likes the Big Loop best. Along the route he is something of a legend. Everyone we pass recognizes him as "that big black dog." One guy even waits on the end of his driveway on the return part of the Loop to give him cookies, and he gladly exacts his tribute. He's like the Don or something.

Taco is a strong mutt. It takes all available energy to hold him back if he gets excited and charges at something. Usually it's another dog or someone he recognizes, but earlier this week he charged a chicken. A chicken. There's this Chinese family that lives in the big brick house at the corner by the park, and they have a chicken. I don't know if it's a pet or if they're going to take a cleaver to it some day down the road, but apparently they think it's a good idea to let it out of the house every now and again to wander around the yard. Free-range suburban living: if it's good for humans, it must be good for the chicken.

Taking your ten-pound chicken outside is a good idea sometimes, but not when there is a 125-pound mutt lurking about. Mr. Taco and I turned the corner and before my brain made the connection that the little thing hopping around this house's front yard was a chicken, I found myself straining to keep the mutt from charging the chicken. Taco's only experience with chicken so far had been "mmm, tasty," and I didn't particularly feel like having to explain to Mom that Mr. Taco devoured a new playmate. Luckily Taco's excited howling and barking made the chicken flap away to the backyard, and I was able to get the dog home safely. No animals were harmed in the making of this walk, etc.

Too bad it's impossible to do either the Little or Big loop without passing this house; we'll just have to hope the chicken's not there whenever we walk the dog.

-Henri