The Chickengate Scandal

As I’ve proved time and time again, strange things happen to me.

Today is a home day so just before lunch I always take our dog, Peanut, for a walk with Jude.

Today we walked a few streets from our place and past the street where I grew up and although I don’t normally walk down there because Peanut sees my Mum’s house and goes mental trying to get in there, for some reason today I decided to.

When I got halfway down the street I saw their neighbour, Janice, standing nearby holding two dogs by their collars, so I stopped to say hello to her as she often babysits for me.

She was really distressed and told me she’d just found the dogs in the next door neighbour’s chicken coup and that they’d killed the chickens. She heard the commotion from her place next door so went to investigate because the owners weren’t home.

“It was awful, I could hear the poor little chooks squealing and I knew a dog was in there. When I got to the coup there were two dogs inside it and one of the chooks was laying dead by the gate with chicken bits everywhere. I took one look at it and figured they were both dead anyway so as I ran back to get my phone the dogs followed me. What on earth am I supposed to do”.

I arrived just after she had found the dogs so they were still quite hyped up and trying to wriggle away from her so I held on to them while she went to get another lead. It was at that point when she was gone that I started thinking “why the hell didn’t I keep walking past the street. Why didn’t I keep on going?”.

I called both the numbers on the dogs tags with no answer and we were deciding what to do next when the owner called.

“Hello, this is the ex-husband of the person who owns the dogs you’ve found”.

Me. “Well the dogs have killed someone’s chickens and you really need to come and get them and sort it out.”

“So here’s the thing, they aren’t even my dogs. I didn’t want to get them for this very reason but my ex-wife insisted and we split up two days ago so they aren’t my responsibility”.

To be honest as soon as he started talking he irritated me with his total lack of concern for anyone but himself but because I’m obviously such a kind member of society I persisted.

“Fine. Don’t worry about it then. I will call the pound then and they will collect your ex wife’s dogs for you. Even though it’s your number on the dog tags”.

After that he tried his best to be a bit nicer but we all know that people like him aren’t capable of that so the best he could do was say “Well she actually works near you so you can call her on her mobile it is 042*******”

Was this guy for real?

“I don’t think so, Mr, how about YOU call your ex wife’s mobile and get back to me”

And I hung up. Seriously, what a tool.

By this stage Janice was looking extremely distressed and said “Steph, can you go back up to the house and see exactly how bad it is. I’ll mind Jude and Peanut”.

So I left her there with the chicken murderers, Peanut and my baby in a pram (who I might add I am toilet training hence he was wearing undies only so I was keeping track of how long it was going to be until he could hold on no longer an unleash unspeakable mess in the buggy).

Janice also told me that the chickens owners absolutely loved them as pets and that they had been attacked by a dog before and they were so upset that they took the chicken to the vet and had it repaired, or whatever you do to glue a chook back together, and it had IV antibiotics and everything.

So I walked back up to the scene of the crime and when I got there, a very bald and savaged chicken was in the corner with blood all over it, standing on top of what I thought was bits of its mate but it was just heaps of its own feathers attached to the skin which had been ripped off.

Then I went looking for the victim. Janice had said one of the chickens was definitely dead but I couldn’t find it anywhere. There were so many feathers everywhere I had to keep kicking them to see if there was anything underneath but I definitely did not find the murder victim.

So I wandered back down the long driveway to find Janice gone and some unknown lady I’d never seen before holding my dog by the leash in one hand and rocking the pram with MY baby in it with the other.

Things just kept getting weirder.

“Oh hi I’m Elaine I was just driving past and wondered what all the commotion was about so thought I’d stop. Janice has just gone to get her phone so she can ring the poor owner. Gosh imagine such excitement in our little street”.

Good lord.

When Janice got back she rang the chickens mother, and said “I am so sorry to be the bearer of such dreadful news but I’m afraid your chickens are dead”. And then she cried. As did the lady on the end of the phone.

I was starting to get a bit impatient by this point because of the no nappy situation and to be quite honest it was all getting a bit serious and over the top. Chickens people, CHICKENS.

Not long later, Mr ‘I don’t care about anyone but me’ called back and said “okay I don’t even know you but I want you to do me a favour. Can you take my dogs back to my ex-wife’s house and I will meet you there. Jesus christ, I’m still doing things for that woman and we’re not even together anymore. Not only that she works in the suburb where you are but can’t leave the office so here I am doing her shit for her”.

No mention of the savaged chooks or any concern for anyone else.

I continued on with my kind neighbourly tone “Well no, I’m not walking your dogs home and can you hurry up I need to go home”.

“No I cannot hurry up, I have 9 points on my licence and can’t afford a speeding fine so I will get there in my own time”

Asshole. I was liking this guy less and less by the minute. No wonder his marriage had crumbled. She made the right choice choosing the dogs over him. Even if they are assassin mongrels.

Then finally the woman who owned the dog called me “oh my god I just can’t believe it, I’m new to the area and I can’t believe my babies killed two chickens”.

So I told her “well actually, one of the chickens we thought was dead is actually walking around again but it really does not look well. Just to let you know, the parents of the victims take their chickens quite seriously and they are household pets. They are devastated. They nearly lost them in another near death and they ended up at the chicken hospital”.

Couldn’t write about it could you? As the words came from my mouth I could hear how freaken insane it all sounded.

“Oh shit. So now my husband has left me and the dogs are killing the local pets. Oh my god oh my god I just can’t believe it”.

This was getting boring so I said “Well look I don’t even know any of you, I was just going for a walk with my son so why don’t you call the owner and sort it out” . Man I needed some coffee.

“Okay, who is the owner and what is their number?”

Me “Well I have no idea actually I don’t live in the street”.

God damn it why do these things happen to me?

By the time I got off the phone, the deceased’s Aunt and her husband had arrived. Turns out they live in the house behind. So I got all the details of the chickens owners and gave them to the wailing owner of the murdering canines.

Then the ex-husband arrives to collect the accused.

As soon as he got out of his shitty car he started yelling “SEE PEOPLE, SHE STILL HAS ME DOING HER CHORES EVEN THOUGH WE SPLIT UP 2 DAYS AGO. I told her I never wanted these bloody dogs, they are such stupid animals and look what has happened now. Come on mutts, get in the car”.

There were no thank yous or sorrys or any kind of remorse, he was just rude and arrogant and I didn’t like him one bit.

We had the dogs tied to the letterbox by a leash so because there was no way that any of us were going to help him untie the dogs, he walked up to them and bent over to untie them himself.

And proceeded to cut his bald head on the letterbox so that blood gooshed out of it.

Never in my life have I had to show such restraint in trying not to totally piss myself laughing.

“Oh my god, my head is bleeding, my head is bleeding. I cut it on the letterbox. Fuck”

The three of us just stood there staring at him. If he’d severed a major artery he probably would have died because we stood there like we couldn’t give a hoot. Because we didn’t.

“Do any of you have a tissue for my head? Or something I can clean it up with?”

“Um, no.”

So without another unkind word he turned around, got in the car and drove off.

I call karma. The dead chicken was sending its revenge from hen heaven. Except that the dead chicken wasn’t actually dead and the other chicken was still missing. Or its body was. Or something.

So once the murderers had been imprisoned, Janice and I, the owners sister and her husband, and Elaine the neighbour, who was just in it for the entertainment value, stood around and the husband said ..

“Okay we still have the mystery of the missing chicken, what do you think happened to it?”

Me “Well there were so many feathers, I reckon it’s either been killed and while we were out here another dog got it, or maybe it survived and flew over the fence into one of the other three neighbouring properties”.

Everyone went silent.

Until Janice said “but all those houses have their own dogs. What if the chicken flew over the fence and it got eaten by another neighbour’s dog? Or is being eaten right now?”

And with that, everyone beelined it to their own property to make sure another homocide wasn’t taking place on their own turf and I was left standing there. Alone. With Peanut and Jude.

So I went home.

And spent the afternoon picking chicken guts out of my birkenstocks.