Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. So goes the line from William Congreve's The Mourning Bride. To this day, that line conjures up all sorts of imagery. So few words yet they represent such a vast oasis of thoughts and actions.
My story started simple enough. I have a farm dog that likes company, human company to be specific and does not take kindly to being left outside to do her job alone. Especially if she knows someone is on the farm.
Funny thing is she is on the farm all day by herself watching the chickens. She has access to inside the garage all the time. Inside the garage is where most of my shoes reside. I have a couple pair of steel-toed shoes; a couple pair of muck boots, snow boots and of course my tennis shoes. I wear the tennis shoes mostly when I leave the farm. I recently started wearing a new pair while not quite getting rid of the old ones. The old pair is now the official chicken pen shoe.
Because of poultry bio-security, we cannot allow shoes worn off the farm to set foot inside the chickens’ domain. It is one of those ounces of prevention measures to keep the organic chickens healthy. So we tend to have multiple pairs of older shoes in case there is a need to go to another farm or dirty environment. For visitors, we have single-use booties when giving educational tours.
The shoes are stored on a low shelf in the garage by the door of the house. If I am in the house, I have on a pair of shoes that never touch anything but the floors of our house. I change shoes before I go outside and once again before coming back into the house. Last thing we need is to bring salmonella, listeria or any other viral or bacteriological organism in the house. Family and friends come over with babies, children and young adults. Besides, being germ-phobic I am very cautious about cross-contamination.
I was home the other day doing computer work. We have to redesign our labels to meet new requirements, access email etcetera. Therefore, I spent most of the day inside working away. Little did I know the ramifications of my supposed thoughtless actions. I had gone out to let the chickens out for the morning. Coadee went with me as normal. Except this time, I did not stay outside or leave the farm. I came back inside to catch up on the paperwork.
Coadee for her part tried to come along. I wanted her outside protecting the chickens so I stopped her, made her sit, took my shoes off and went into the house. She barked her disapproval and I set about getting the paperwork done. The day got away from me, the next thing I know my wife is arriving home. I look outside and see one of my new tennis shoes on the lawn. "Okay," I think to myself, Coadee drug one of my shoes outside.
Except, when I go to retrieve the shoe I find Coadee decided to show her displeasure at not being allowed in the house. As the picture below shows, she made quite a statement.
Let us review; she has had access to these shoes for over six months. She is out all day by herself with access to the garage. She is out all day on the weekends when we are working the gardens and the chickens. Coadee has not chewed anything since being spayed. No chewing of drywall, table legs, wood molding or anything except for her toys.
I am not a dog whisperer but I think she might have taken being left outside just a little too personally. Yes, I was the one that made her stay outside. Yes, they were my shoes and the newest pair at that, but there were over eight pairs of shoes to choose from. I had a perfectly good pair of chewable shoes that she strategically passed over to select the best shoe. I will never know how she did this, she has refused to take English lessons, so I am stuck with mere conjecture.
What I do know is "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...."
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