Dogs are not allowed to run loose. We have leash laws. This big wolf-like dog is all over the place, unattended. Or, the owner is four blocks behind, not what the law specifies--dog must be under owner's control all the time.
I heard an excited "buck, buck, buck" and thought there was a squabble amongst the hens over a bug. No! Pretty soon, they were screaming and running. I ran out and grabbed a shovel leaning on the porch step railing. I met Thelma and Louise, running for their lives as I rounded the back of the house. The dog, fast behind, stopped and snarled when I screamed. Well, I screamed again after he snarled, threw up my arms wide and high, rushing this ferocious dog. I am terrified of dogs but I would have wrestled him for my chickens.
He ran one way, and I ran around the other side of the house to see if I could find Fancy. But, he was gone when I got to the front, and so were all the hens. Finally, I saw Louise, cowering by the back fence in some cover. I picked her up and put her in the dog-proof pen. I called, "Delilah," over and over--also called their names. (Delilah is their food call.) Then, Thelma appeared at the pen and I picked her up and put her in. Poor little Fancy, the smallest, most prolific egg layer, the one who follows me and "talks" to me was still missing.
I set out more slowly around the house, examining each bush and calling her name. Finally, I heard a tiny noise and kept calling softly. My heart was pounding once again, but with joy this time but also with fear. She sounded hurt, almost dead. Finally, I spotted her and coaxed her from the huge bush--good cover, smart girl! I carried her all the way from the front yard to the back with no complaints from her. She was frightened and so was I. We hugged.
Since I have all the chicken cooking in the house, I am afraid that the hour I am gone to the dinner that the raccoons will be tempted from the attic by the smell of food. I may take my hens with me for an hour.
Animal Control or city police are going to issue a citation for the owners of the dog when I find out who they are.
Am I sounding like the crazy chicken lady yet?