I sit typing this at one in the morning to your pitiful whines, Hunter, and I want you to know you are a good dog. You are not locked outside in the kennel for punishment. Quite the opposite. You are locked out there because I trust you. Because I know you are the only one who can do the job I have set before you. Because you are a good dog.

It all started with a little Ameraucana chick named Nacho. Well, it actually started with an appointment for a dress fitting which required me to lock the chickens up early. This isn’t usually much of a problem. By afternoon, the hens are rather peckish and are willing to follow a dish of food anywhere. The chicks, on the other hand, have not yet learned this.

I was pleased to note, however, that all the chicks were already in the hen house taking their afternoon nap. That makes the chicken round up ever so much easier.

Except one decided that easy was not in the plans for the day and slipped out as I put the hens in.

She immediately sought shelter under the hen house and refused to budge. No amount of coaxing and cajoling and poking with sticks would convince her to move from her place of refuge. I couldn’t just leave her there, but I couldn’t stay, either.

So you, dear Hunter, are there in my stead. Pepper would kill the chick quicker than a fox. Copper would chase it until it had a heart attack. But you…you, Hunter, would stand over the little chick and growl at anything that dared come too close. If the little chick is to make it through her night of freedom, it will be because you are there to protect her when I couldn’t catch her.

You are out there now for the same reason that I let you run the property without a leash. For the same reason that you are not normally kenneled when we leave but are allowed to stay in the house. For the same reason you’ve never been chained since we moved here. For the same reason you are allowed to come in and out of the house at will.We trust you because you are a good dog.

It is sort of like my eldest daughter who sometimes balks at her added responsibility. She forgets the privilege that comes alongside that responsibility. Except she’s a girl, somewhat capable of understanding the explanation. You are a dog and all I know to tell you is this:

Good boy, Hunter. Good boy.

That and expect an extra treat in your dish tomorrow and maybe a good game of fetch.