The Chicken Bandit.

It was WAR… the chicken-eater on all paws was finally getting to me. I was bullshit at the demonic, oversized, fluffy tailed, black and white fur ball, my ex-husband left behind. The dog had to go! One problem, my son loved the beast so much I didn’t have the heart to get rid of him.

Once again, he had been up to the neighbors having a free poultry delicacy courtesy of their hen house. I glared at my scruffy neighbor standing on my porch who was mad as a mud wasp caught in a glass jar.

“Do you realize it is illegal to shoot a pet in the State of Maine!” I responded heatedly to the irate neighbor. “I will pay for your chickens, and if you shoot that dog I can and will have you arrested for doing so!” My unkempt neighbor stomped down the porch stairs. I impolitely shot him the one finger salute and slammed the kitchen door shut.

The criminal was lying on the floor with his massive head on his white fuzzy paws having the audacity to try to look cute and lovable. “S-Keymo you’re a bad dog! A very bad dog!” I scolded the fluffy terror and pointed to my son’s room. His pointed ears drooped a little bit as he heaved himself up off the floor in a huff and inched his way away from the crazy woman yelling at him. Only once did the vile beast look back at me to see if I was actually going to make him go. The last thing I wanted to look at was that black and white chicken murderer! He let out a huff as he padded his way past my eight year old son. Who was sitting on the floor in front of the television, playing a video game.

I picked up Nora Roberts book Dance Upon Air and curled up on the comfortable brown couch in front of the television. “I’m going to read a couple of chapters, Shawn, then it will be time to get off and let your sister have a turn.” I’m pretty sure I heard the resemblance of a groan, or a grunt, come out of the kid before I tuned the noise out and tried to relax with one of my favorite authors.

Catching a black and white movement out of the corner of my eye I lowered the book an inch and watched the evil creature walk out of the den of doom toward my son. The imp eyed me with one yellow eye and one blue. As he started to walk pass my son sitting upon the floor, I watched the holy terror pause for a moment… What he did next shocked me into silence.

His hairy back paw lifted followed by an equally hairy leg.

PahSSSST!…

A yellow spurt of urine gave way to a steady stream down my son’s back.

“S-Keymo! Aww gross!” My son exclaimed, shaking me out of my shocked state.

“Mom!” my son cried out as he rushed to get away from the steady stream of doggy pee-pee.

“He pissed on me!” He cried out in disbelief mixed with a bit of disgust.

The foul beast seemed to grin with his tongue rolling out of his head breathing in a huffy way.

It wasn’t until years later when I was reading an article about Siberian Huskies that I found out the breed tended to be a bit mischievous. I say S-Keymo had the trait mastered. It has been several years since our family has lost our impish pet, but the memories of his antics bring us joy.

@L.M.Morse

 

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