Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'...

Late in the morning, Tony left for Medina to mail some letters for me, John and Carol were taking dogs for walks, and I was inside the trailer doing some paperwork, when the dogs cranked up outside. I figured the dogs were barking, because Carol and John were either coming in or going out with dogs. I figured wrong.

A little while later, John and Carol came up to the trailer to tell me that Randy Travis had gotten out and had killed a chicken and possibly some chicks! They told me that they were down at the creek with Chase and Sheba when they heard the dogs howling, so they hurried back, but it was too late. Feathers were everywhere!

“I put Randy up,” John said. “In less than a minute, after walking away—he jumped out again! I don’t understand it.”

“I’ll bet Randy jumped out, when Tony left for Medina,” I said. “I don’t know what we are going to do about Randy?”

“I have a great chicken coop,” Carol said. “Why don’t we try to catch the chicks, and I’ll take them to my ranch?”

That sounded good to John and me, so the three of us took off to find the chicks. I suggested that we use our gigantic elephant net to catch them, but that wasn’t such a good idea—because the chicks could walk through the net.

Carol suggested that she go behind the barn and try to move them in our direction and she took off. Then the dogs started barking, because Randy had jumped out again. John went to put Randy back into his pen, and as soon as that task was completed, Moe Bandy, Randy’s brother, jumped out.

“They’re starting to move in your direction,” Carol said. “Is John heading back, yet?”

“Nope,” I answered. “He’s gone to put Bandy up.”

The ‘chick roundup’ was then put on temporary ‘standby.’

When John returned, I went around to the back of the barn to help Carol drive the chicks. Well, instead of helping—I started a fowl stampede! Tiny baby chicks were running as fast as their little chicken feet could run—towards John! “Look out, John!” I hollered. “They’re headed your way!”

And, as soon as those words had flown out of my mouth—and before John could say, “I’m ready! Bring ‘em on!” The chicks changed their little minds, and made an abrupt left turn, and headed off into the woods—to hide.

“I think they are too frightened for now,” Carol said. “Poor babies. I think we should let them rest and calm down.”

The three of us agreed to call off the chick roundup, for another day. Then the three of us discussed ideas on how to keep Randy in his pen.

Before Carol left to go home, I invited her to join Tony, John, Kinky and me, on Thanksgiving morning to help cook and serve the dog’s—annual Thanksgiving Dinner. She was delighted to be asked, and told us that she wouldn’t miss it for the world!

After Carol drove away, John and Tony went to work on Randy’s pen. A few hours later, after completion—John went home, and Tony and I went to Kerrville to buy the dog’s Thursday’s trailer-cooked dinner.

It took two grocery carts to get everything that we needed for our dog’s dinner. We bought five dozen eggs, two giant quarts of olive oil, three bags of shredded cheddar cheese, four giant sacks of turkey stuffing, fifteen pounds of ground turkey, five— four pound sacks of mixed vegetables made up of: corn, peas, green beans, lima beans and carrots! And, three cases of canned dog food. And the only thing that I didn’t have to buy for the dinner, was crushed garlic, because we still have plenty left over from last year.

While Tony wrote the check, he told the cashier, “All of this is for our dog’s annual Thanksgiving Dinner.”

The older woman’s eyes got big, and she asked, “Can I come live at the rescue ranch?”