We finished the coop up on Thursday (of last week - ya, I know I've been a rather lazy blogger. I kind of got the feeling that I was getting all whiney, bistchy, and listy....and I thought "That's a really boring read!" So, I waited out the whine, bitsch, and list and now, hopefully I'm back onto story time. It's really difficult not to be listy when we have a donkey ass-load of projects going on around here....) and I debated if Surgeon should be allowed the length of his lead to sufficiently guard the chickens or if he should take some time to get use to them.
I went against my better judgement and let him have the ENTIRE length of his lead.
That was one VERY stressful couple of hours for me! I think I made my throat sore from correcting the dog so much (which we do by "growling" at him. *clears throat* *best growly voice* BAAAAAAAAAA!!! It sounds like I have sheep Turrets (sorry, folks with Turrets - it's not a nice thing to have and I really mean no harm.. I really don't. Really. What? It's just a freaking ANALOGY!) Whatever, it freaking WORKS!!!)
I have protected my future egg layers and chicken breast, thighs, wings, and legs from our sneaky ass cat, curious dogs, the weather, and now monster puppy. *drool* mmm fried homegrown chicken....
I curled up with my lap top to keep an eye on things and it quickly became clear that I wasn't going to get ANY work done. Every time I looked up he was playfully running after them --scaring the crap out of them-- pawing at the fence/chewing the fence/doing cute puppy lunges --which he just couldn't understand why the fence was in his way-- and generally just being a puppy.
I was in a sore mood and I'm afraid I over handled him. I would growl at him from the couch and when he seemed extremely over-enthusiastic I would go out there and growl and alpha roll him.
Yes, Cesar Milan has invaded my life. damnit.
But with a dog THIS BIG (holds a semi-shaky level hand to about my waist. Most people have not idea what an Anatolian Shepherd is. So, I have to go into a long explanation and answer "Well, how big will he be?" And I always feel a bit self conscious and silly when I hold a hand up to the top of my thigh or at my waist....because I'm 5.10 and 3/4. That's right FRACTIONS. Besides, I am SO. NOT. AN. ATTENTION. WHORE. NO.NO.NO! Now, back to your regularly scheduled anxiety, paranoia, and general nervousness.) I am unsure of what else to do, since he has no idea what the word NO means! He seemed to get the message. Meanwhile, I felt like a complete ass and an abusive dog parent. But hey, no one touches my freaking dinner!
Surgeon is coming along nicely, though I am sad to say I may have to put a stop to his puppy play with me. That shit hurts! I am afraid, not of him, but that as he gets bigger his play will only get more rough and I will walk away with more scratches and irritation. I will simply have to stop. I am not a chew toy.