Tragedy strikes—sort of

Another week has receded into the misty abyss of time. The weekend contained the usual property-oriented productivity. The garage is getting emptier, and I made a better gate for the deck—a little late, as we shall see. Val took me out to Borders for Fathers Day, and I got calls from several of my kids. On Saturday evening the neighbors' dog, one of them, got out. Val helped retrieve the critter and we thought no more about it until Sunday when I went to check on the chickens. Four were dead but uneaten, including both cornish crosses. I had thought about butchering them Saturday because they were eating size, but decided to wait until the kids were around so they could participate. Too late now. I should tell you a little about Cornish crosses. They are the couch potatoes of chickendom. They are a non-reproducing hybrid bred to grow rapidly and be eaten. We got these two because they were the last of the batch in the feed store when we bought the rest of our flock. These two were certainly true to their breed. Mostly they waddled around and ate, and they got so plump they were a bit unsteady on their feet. In fact, the breed has a reputation for skeletal and cardiac problems because they grow so fast. Ours were fine, healthy specimens, though, and did just fine until they became low-hanging fruit, as it were, for some predator. We don't know if it was the neighbors' dog, but it doesn't matter. We know the risk, living next door to five dogs, and losing some of your livestock is part of the game. As it happens, Max got out yesterday and chased down a chicken that had sneaked out of the run when I was in there earlier. He had plenty of time to dispatch the creature—several minutes—but all he did was mouth it. We had an unharmed but very frightened and damp chicken! Had a busy day at work today—some deadlines are coming up, and people always turn on the steam when they start to see that their time is getting short. I might have a couple late nights this week. In other work-related news, Val came home tonight with news of a job offer! It sounds to me like a pretty good deal, and it's certainly a compliment that the offer was made without her seeking employment. More news on this later, after things have time to develop. On to the book review—I know you're all dying to learn about the next love language. It's receiving gifts. The corollary is giving gifts, but the emphasis is on getting them. The point has little to do with the cost of the gift, but that it represents a tamgible token of love. It's what the gift stands for that's important. A good example is mom's reaction when her child brings in a dandelion or draws a picture for her. A dialect of this language is investing time in the other person. This is not giving your undivided attention as in the second language, but giving up your schedule for the other person's benefit. Like attending a concert with them. Doing something they like to do because they like to do it.