April 18, 2014 – I received a text from Sawyer late this morning, telling me to leave the brewery and head back to the henhouse immediately. There was a calamity underway and my services were needed. I had no idea what I’d be facing when I got there, so I strapped on my colander helmet, grabbed my safety whistle and ran through the woods back to the chicken yard. I was just about over the rise when I heard the familiar arf of our beagle Sadie, and instantly knew that she was in the middle of whatever was going on.
“There you are!” Wilma snarled at me as I reached the edge of the run. “This dog – this friend of yours, won’t leave the coop. She’s demanding that we hide her from Mom and take her on a ride in the convertible. See what you’ve done by getting your license? You’ve upset the delicate balance of things.”
Cool your wattle Wilma, I thought. Aren’t you the one who loves to take a drive and always calls shotgun?
“Sadie!” I called lovingly to my canine buddy. “What’s up?”
“Hide me, Hap. Hide me from Mom. I slipped out of my harness during our walk and she’s searching for me. Stick me in a nest box. Shove a couple of Pringles in my mouth and I’ll pretend that I’m laying an egg. It’ll be a hoot!”
“First off, the chip trick only works if you’re trying to be a duck. And second, I can hear Willow baying for you. You can’t leave your sister in the lurch! It’d be like me baling on Sawyer or Peaches…”
“Or Wilma,” Sadie offered.
No, probably not Wilma, but that was a discussion for another day.
“Take us for a ride in the car, please! Willow will love it too!”
“You’re a dog, Sadie. You get to ride in the car all the time!”
She didn’t have a moment to reply before Mom came around the corner holding the empty harness.
“Ah! There you are, my little rascal!”
We all chuckled as Mom scooped her up over her shoulder and carried her back to the house. Sadie cleaned Mom’s face the entire way. At one point she looked up at me and made the driving motion with her paws. She cracks me up, that one.
Since I was in the coop, I decided to have a cup of tea before heading back to work on a new beer recipe.
“What’s up with Wilma,” I asked Sawyer and Tim. “She seems crankier than normal.”
“She’s upset because Charlotte complimented her on her lovely hat this morning,” Tim explained.
“What’s so bad about that?” I asked.
“She wasn’t wearing one,” Sawyer chuckled. “She had a half of a grape and a couple of pine shavings stuck to her comb and Charlotte thought it was a fancy fascinator.”
We laughed about that all day. Not in front of Wilma, mind you. She was embarrassed enough. We’re going to have a hootenanny tonight to get her mind off of hats and on to dancing. Wilma LOVES to dance.