We woke up this morning at 6:30am and there was still no Chester. Greg drove around the block looking for him. No Chester :( I was worried about all of the things that could have happened to him, like getting shot, getting caught in a trap, getting kicked by a moose or mauled by a bear, getting captured by his previous owners.

At 8:00am, someone called and asked if we were missing a dog. I was sooooo happy that he was found. The woman who had Chester was caretaking for her inlaws. She found Chester sleeping outside of the inlaws’ pig pen. The three pigs had been shot.

When I went to pick Chester up, I was concerned that perhaps he had killed the pigs. The woman didn’t think so, she was pretty sure they had been shot. I have no idea what a bullet hole would even look like. After putting Chester in the Jeep, I went to look at the piggies. It was so incredibly sad. I almost started to cry. They were just laying on their sides– all dead and stinky. One of the pigs had a gouge in her side, the others had little holes that could have been from a gun.

I took Chester home and told him that he was a big dummy for not coming home last night. I’m glad he’s home, but am sad for the family who lost their pigs.

Last night Greg and I headed out for our evening walkies at around 6pm. We were wearing our usual garb– reflective Apocalypse snowsuits and headlamp. We walk 9 dogs at a time– the dogs who will run off stay on a leash and the dogs who are old and stay by our side off lead. As soon as we left the yard, headlights were coming at us from the West. I ran over to scoot Bosco out of the way since he’s hard to see in the dark. The headlights turned into a mini van. The mini van was driving steadily at 5-10 mph. I moved to the side and the front of mini van grazed Wild’s side (Wild was fine, except for a slight limp this morning). After Wild was hit, I slammed the palm of my hand (which was in big fluffy mittens) on the car. My intent was to get the guy to stop since:
a) he just hit my dog, and
b) Greg was right behind me.

The car kept going, and then stopped. S.K. came out of the car and yelled at me for trying to break his window (as if he thought that someone could break a car window with one’s fist). I said, “You just hit my dog.” He said, “Don’t ever hit my van again.” I said, “Look, you just hit my dog.” He was all in my face when Greg showed up and he started yelling at Greg, the conversation went something like this:
S.K.: “You need to get your woman under control.”
G: “We need to find away for us to get along. You know we walk the dogs twice a day, so perhaps you can slow down.”
S.K.: “I did slow down. There a leash law…”
Me: “You’re on our property right now.”
S.K.” You need to get your woman under control. This isn’t your property, it belongs to FNSB. I’m sick of your woman’s lies. This is FNSB land and there’s a leash law.”
Me: “It isn’t FNSB land. There’s an easement for ingress/egress, and it’s own property, I’m on my own property right now.”
S.K.: “You need to get your woman under control. I’m sick of your woman’s lies. The road isn’t yours. And I’m sick of her harassing my brother.”
G: “Look, I’ve taken your number to call the cops.”
S.K.: “Go ahead, call. I’ll call on my cell phone.”
Blah blah blah, conversation goes on.
G: “So, call the cops.”
S.K.: “No, I’m not going to call the cops.”
Me: “So I guess you don’t like women huh?”
S.K.: “I love my wife. She respects and obeys me. You need to get your woman under control.”

Finally S.K. leaves. Wild was okay. She didn’t fall down when she was hit. But this morning she was limping on the side she was hit.
This isn’t the first interaction I’ve had with these people. Previous to this Greg and I were walking and S.K.’s brother didn’t stop and almost ran Greg over and then me.