Dogs Redeem Themselves. Or Not.

Dogs bark. It's what they do. Generally not a high-pitched baying, and seldom at 330a. But it was what they were doing this morning. I dragged my tired butt downstairs to see what was wrong. Pepper, the girl border collie, looked sorry to have woken me up, but was almost snarling at the glass front door. Stink, the boy border collie, had his hackles raised. I could hear Cleo, the Great Pyr, woofing and banging on the door downstairs.

Walked outside. It was cold (about 40 for a low last night; how's that for July?), and heard something trampling off into the woods. Too loud for a chipmunk, not quite loud enough for a moose. Let the collies out, and they proceeded straight for the chicken coop, which they circled, then came up and sniffed the two bottom steps of the front porch. Let the collies in. Let the Great Pyr out, and she went straight to the chicken coop, circled it, and sniffed the two bottom steps of the front porch.

Hmmmm.

Checked the chicken coop; the peeps appeared to be fine. Went back to sleep.

Woke up this morning (surprisingly enough, overslept) and walked outside. Tried to figure out what had happened. Figured it out pretty quickly. Whatever it was -- and I'm guessing a big mama coon -- had circled the chicken coop and decided there weren't any easy pickings. So it came up the bottom two steps of the porch, jumped on a railing, walked up to a sunflower seed bird feeder and deconstructed it to get at the seeds. I mean, that thing must've just about had thumbs.

Anyway, the dogs look pleased with themselves this morning. I just look tired.