"A Stool Chicken Silenced"

Herman Heyden holding "the chicken," winning author Pam Vander Heyden, Airedale Terrier Kelcee and Linda Budge

Linda Budge and Lisa Goin, representative for the Arizona Humane Society, accepting checks (entry fees) totaling $2,500.

GRAND PRIZE 2008:

"In the Dog House"
BY PAMELA VANDER HEYDEN

A Stool Chicken, Silenced ....

"I want you to know, may they scratch my name from the roles at the Airedale Sniffing Club if I'm lying, that this entire chicken episode has been merely a horrific misunderstanding.

I thought the chicken was mine, I thought he was there to be a friend to me. Later, after all of the screaming and the fuss, the snowy intestines, scattered brains and the missing song box, I realize that perhaps my usually brilliant mind had slightly miscalculated the situation. Here are the facts, you decide.

I have lived in this house in Arizona for over two years now, this is my "Arfdom." I am an Airedale with "Terri-tude." On this particular day my mom brought home a new friend, it was a chicken. He was really cute, white with a red comb on his head, an orange beak and matching huge orange feet. I wanted to make friends, so I coaxed him off the counter, he went very willingly I might add, and took him into the backyard. "Isn't this great out here," I asked him running all over the yard. He didn't appear at all grateful and wouldn't quit squawking the entire time.

Mom came running, she brushed the big baby off and took him in the house, and said we weren't supposed to be friends. He was a present for Hobbs, her grandson who was coming for a visit. My keen nose was a bit out of joint, as they say, and I left the room without a backward glance. Gag me with a Milk Bone, the whiner.

The day Hobbs arrived, he began making friends with that chicken. I don't get it! Why would he want to be friends with someone who can't run, fetch a ball or smell pork chops from three rooms away? All that chicken can do is sing and tattle, humph. Well, I can howl up a great storm, but instead of applause, everyone tells me to shush up. My talents are greatly unappreciated. I need an agent.

One evening when the family was done eating, I offered my talents at helping clean up a sheet of roasted vegetables. I put my dainty little paws on the counter, when that Stool-Chicken began to sing. Mom came by and shooed me out the door and closed it firmly in my face. Grrrr.

Plan A was beginning to form in my mind, a way to rid myself of this Chick-Fink. As I looked down the hallway I realized the bedroom door was open. I didn't plan to hurt him, just rough him up a bit, make him want to go back to the store. "Come on Chick, we are going outside to settle things." I grabbed him and raced down the hall, and out my door.

He wouldn't quit squawking and listen to me, so I shook him to get his attention. Wow! Is this a major weather change? It's snowing! What fun! The snow began to pile up around my paws at a rapid rate. Whoa! It seems that what I believed was an unexpected cold front turned out to be the chicken, um, looking quite thin. This has to be trouble!

I heard mom coming out of the bedroom so I ran back into the house to distract her. She opened the patio door and let out a bone chilling shriek. Now, I'm here to tell you, I was standing right next to her as those shutters slowly opened, and the scene before us was not for the faint of heart. My legs began to shake, and my eyes nearly bugged right out of their sockets. Snow-intestines, everywhere. I did the very next thing that any intelligent Airedale would do - I ran.

He's since been re-stuffed, and I've promised, toes triple crossed, to behave myself. As for his sing-song-tattle-tale voice, sure, I found that little magical box. I added to my cache in the back yard. Let's hear him sing about me from under two pounds of sod.

Copyright © 2008.

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