Baby Dresden took a happy little walk this morning through the cornfields to the barn and met an irritable rooster and his harem.

Dresden marched right up, wagging. Rockstar (jerkface) the rooster immediately challenged, flapping and squawking and charging, and Baby Dresden peed all over and jumped INTO MY ARMS. Mission accomplished: 1 Malamute who runs away from chickens instead of eating them.

Felt sorry for the little twerp and picked up the van, crated him in the back. Headed for Micky D’s. In the drive-thru while I was ordering, Big D poked his nose under my arm. Hey, you were crated. But the crate door is hanging open. Not a good sign of things to come. Got D a burrito. We drove home (with him in my lap, don’t tell my puppy buyers because I lecture too many times about crate-crate-crate your dogs) and took another short walk. Soon as he heard chickens clucking, he tuned and headed resolutely home, head down and determined to escape the evil fiend in the barn.

Good boy, here’s some burrito. He kept looking over his shoulder the whole way home and lead the charge into the gate. Good, good boy.