Saved by the Dog

So, yesterday was the last day of school. I love to teach. I love the kids. I start the year full of ideas and excitement for what the year holds in store. Like a new fluffy dish cloth, I research and read and plan and soak up new ideas that I squeeze back out to my eager students. We do a ton of work, art and fun. By yesterday at 3:15, I felt like one of those dish rags that come out of the washing machine in pieces. That's it folks, no more, all done, tired, weary, finished!

Then, because some folks have to be out for a PD on our last teacher day, we had to have our "End of Year," meeting after school. Yes, you heard correctly. After every last bit of patience, ideas and goodwill had been put through the wringer and had come out on the other side in pieces, I had to talk about themes, and schedules and on and on and on, for four hours. I came home in a foul mood to say the least.

Good news! I slept well and returned to the scene of the crime this morning to retrieve my new chickie babies and bring them home. First, I stopped and introduced them to Arwen. She stuck her head in the bucket, as if to count them, then was no longer interested. Much earlier in the spring I planted the chicken tractor with wheat and chickweed, so I let them play in the sunshine and tasty treats most of the day.

I played in the yard, planting, planting and planting. Before my last bit of energy was spent, I decided I'd best return the wee babes to the coop. Now if you've ever raised chickie babies you know they run from you. I was catching them fairly easily in the small tractor and putting them, three at a time in a bucket, and transferring them to Cluckingham Palace. Of course, I'm trying to be calm, singing Amazing Grace. They are not impressed by my peaceful demeanor and hymn chanting and squawk their tiny heads off. When I put Holly, so named by my class, in the bucket, she climbs right on another chick's back and flies out of my bucket and the tractor into the VERY BIG chicken yard. Time for Keystone Cops!

Thankfully, as she is running full force along the fence line, Arwen the Wondergirl is running right along side her on the outside of the pen. I'm trying one trick after another, but am not catching Miss Holly. Finally, I get her cornered and pray I can grab her when she sticks her head through the fence. By now my heart is pounding, I'm dripping sweat and envisioning a lost Ameracauna. Oh, I'm also yelling, "Arwen, don't let her out! Don't eat her either!" God love that dog, she sticks her face right up the chicken, who is half through the fence, as if to say, "I double dog dare you to go another step." This terrifies the poor chick into submission and she plops her feathered hiney down in the dirt, and I pick her up.

Disaster averted, thanks to one faithful, smart dog!