Chicken Murder

A couple of weeks ago, my very favorite dog MURDERED four of my very favorite neighbors' chickens. It was tragic. Embarrassing. Awkward. I hate that it happened.


My neighbors are graceful and they love my dog. They even let her in their house. They probably spoil her even more than I do, giving her all their table scraps (the ones the chickens don't eat, anyway). And yet, here she went killing their new favorite things and they were (are?) reasonably mad.


I felt very torn, feeling like it was my fault because she's my dog, and then remembering… well, nature. It's always been hard for me to apologize. It hits right at the core of my pride and worth. I think I'm worth something because I get a few things right. To apologize is to admit that I'm sometimes wrong. But in this case, the apology was worth it. I'd rather apologize. Own my dog. Own my responsibility to train her better. It's worth it because friendship is worth it. My neighbors are worth it. I'm sorry guys.

(This is my dog in my neighbor's bed.)

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