Continued from My Week as a Farmer, Part I.
Last week, I introduced you to all the animals on the Allen family’s farm, except for one. There is one canine that they couldn’t leave out with the others. Because he’s a menace and a danger. A chicken murderer, and as we would soon discover, a thief to boot. Meet…ARLISS! (Cue scary music.)
Don’t let the smile fool you. This boy is a trained killer and is frequently unleashed to go hunting. Failure to recognize the danger could result in serious mayhem and injury. Knowing the risks, we disregarded our better judgment and let him out every day to get his exercise. The first sneak attack came when Dennis decided to rest in the hammock. Arliss went straight for the jugular.
He didn’t count on Dennis knowing kung fu and putting up a fight, however.
So Arliss changed tactics and decided to come at him from the other side.
But Dennis was ready for him and put up a good defense.
The battle was fierce, but the match so even that in the end, they called a truce.
Trouble started again when Dennis picked the summer squash and threw it to dislodge the bugs that were crawling on it. Arliss saw his opportunity and went in for the kill.
Utterly thrilled with his catch, he proceeded to roll on his back with the squash in delight.
After his victory roll, he wasted no further time in devouring the squash.
“I is Arliss…”
“I crush mines enemies…”
“I takes no survivors.”
Later in the week, he managed to paw an egg that Dennis had placed on the other side of fence so he could roll it in closer to eat it!
His next attack was focused at a female of his species. Unfortunately for him, it was our Jessie! He was determined to pick up a scent on her that she has never had, since she is spade, but he wouldn’t give up trying and things got ugly fast.
It started in the pool. They circled each other, forming a yin yang in the murky water as his nose grew ever nearer to her butt and she went ever faster to avoid his invasion of her personal space.
Arliss made no bones about what he was after.
And I wouldn’t trade my week as a semi-farmer for the world! I hope one day we will have a little farm of our own so I can come in each night covered in mud and poo, feathers and fur, thorns and blisters, each blissful, horrible, exhausting day. God love the farmers.