It’s not all about me



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For something that’s not all about me, why do I feel so terrible, how can we get the message across, that it is just not acceptable? For one that seems at her happiest being told she’s a good girl, who after a couple of attempts usually understands and complies.

This morning started normally, I was awoken by the sounds of our six month old pup Kora, trying to get to the spare plant pots, stored behind wire under an old table, near her kennel on the back verandah. A tap on my bedroom window, and the word stop, halts the exercise, and she wanders back to her bed, I drift back to sleep. The same tell tale sound ten minutes later has me not only tapping at the window, but throwing off the doona and fumbling on the floor for my shoes. It is almost 7am, time to start the day.

Kora is always full of energy and ready to take on the world first thing in the morning. As Hubby isn’t awake yet, I give her breakfast, then instead of letting her come inside to say a bounding hello to him, I decide to play ball with her for a while to rid her of the excess vigour. Once the household is fully awake and operational, while hubby has breakfast, Kora and our cat Butterfly greet each other and have their morning game of chase the cat. It’s then time for Hubby and Kora‘s three k morning walk.

So it will only be a matter to putting it on the stove to cook at the appropriate time, in the peace and quiet I take the opportunity to prepare the makings of lunch.  The two happy wanders return within about ninety minutes, as Kora’s reservoir of excess energy is almost depleted, this is usually her quiet time where she snoozes on and off for a few hours, unless there is some activity happening outdoors that she wants to be part of.

The heat today was such that instead of venturing outdoors, hubby decided to prepare our favourite coleslaw recipe, as this takes a lot of slicing of vegetables, it has become his job, to save my arthritic hands. I was on the computer replying to emails, it did cross my mind that it was quiet and I hadn’t heard the pup, but as I said, she usually sleeps, so I just shrugged the thought off returning to the job at hand.

I did hear Hubby leave the kitchen I assumed to check on her, the exploding words Kora drop it!  Had me vacating the computer and flying out the door, with the hedge blocking my view, I heard the slap and the yelp. Calling as I ran, please don’t hurt her, she’s only a pup, to be greeted with Hubby carrying a whimpering Kora as he retorted, she had a dead chicken in her mouth and there’s another dead one there.

            On inspection I found that there was only one dead, the others were just in shock and will be ok given time, this is the third time, and has to be stopped. We both love Kora, but if we can’t stop her, we will have to choose between her and the chickens, and neither of us want that.

Last time it happened, I tied her up in the fowl pen with the geese and their goslings, I’d been told that the fear caused by the parent birds protecting their young from her, would cure her of ever going near a feathered creature again, and I really thought that it had worked, she was terrified in the pen. Maybe I took her out too soon, because I hated seeing her so scared.

The one method that my family on the farms used years ago, was something hubby didn’t want me to try last time, I conceded but stated emphatically that if she did it again I will do it…

Looking at her now, just laying there with the dead chook strapped to her harness, in a way that it lays across her shoulders and back, she, not tied up, hasn’t left her kennel area for hours, knowing she’s in trouble her eyes following me every time I walk past.

She isn’t a person, I have to remember she doesn’t possess human reasoning, who knows if she understands why, this is one time I have to be the leader of her pack, I just can’t give in, it’s too important, even if it just makes me want to cry.

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