Dinky is my dog. One of them anyway. She’s a border collie, kelpie cross with a bit of mongrel thrown in for good measure. She was born the same week as my own daughter, Jessica so we will always know how old she is. She’s six months now. Or as Jim says, she’s point five. We picked her up when she was two months old and she came with the name “Inky” because she is mostly black. She answered to Inky but we didn’t like the name and after throwing around dozens of choices, we settled on shoving a D in front to make “Dinky”. Real creative huh.
The cat has a similar story. He was born a couple of months later and came without a name. I had asked for a girl but my family had conspired against me and got me a boy cat because they are easier to desex. Many names were considered. These included Minty, Beaver, George, Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, Julius, Augustus, Arthur, Astro Boy and Dog. For some reason none of these names seemed to stick. Now we just call it Cat.
It was a tentative friendship at first. The Cat had six other dogs to contend with and had to fight for its place in this family when it was only a kitten. It managed to get a good few swipes into each dog and now unless they are ganging up on it, the dogs pretty much leave The Cat alone.
But Dinky is always hanging around. She kept her distance for a good while and as The Cat got used to her, he started to relax his guard a bit. Now they are thick as thieves. Where you see one, the other is not far behind and they are both intrigued by the new month-old puppies who have recently emerged from their birthplace under the shed.
Today, they managed to wreak a little havoc in the farmyard. All of the dogs had been for a walk and were tucked back in bed in their kennels. Dinky included, so I let the chooks out for a run. One of our chooks was not feeling well. It had a bung wing and for some reason had decided to rest in the water dish. I thought a nice walk in the grass might make it feel better.
Half an hour later I decided to let Dinky back out. Only a couple of days ago, one of Jim’s boots went missing and Dinky has a history of boot thievery. It probably wasn’t her, one of the new pups is more likely the culprit. But Dinky usually retrieved lost items within a couple of days and put them out in the yard. I gave her the job of boot retrieval and left her out for the day.
I forgot about the chooks.
Sometime around lunch, Jessie and I were out on the veranda and we noticed a few feathers out on the lawn. Investigations found Dinky looking very proud of herself and tucking into a chicken dinner. The poor little crook chook had met its maker. Dinky went straight to bed. The boot remained missing.
After locking her up, I grabbed Jedda (our old house dog) and tied her up too. The only animals left out were the two puppies and The Cat. Not sure how to dispose of the fateful chook, I ended up leaving it where it was in the yard. I figured it would end up being eaten whether I put it in a plastic bag and chucked it up the dump or disposed of it in the paddock. I figured Jim might have an idea what to do so I would wait until he got home.
Jessie and I had a lovely afternoon snooze and when we awoke, the chook had disappeared. Either the puppies had cleaned it up or The Cat had. My money was on The Cat. I had a feeling that would happen. I didn’t want to reward Dinky for hunting Chooks but the puppies are due to be weaned and could use the meat. The Cat also gets only dry food and since it wasn’t the one who killed the chook, I saw no great harm.
Unless… perhaps Dinky and The Cat were working together. Hmm. Maybe I was played here.
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