This afternoon, Adam and I were in the kitchen preparing our most favorite Sunday supper: roast chicken.
We love everything about this meal, from stuffing the chicken with fresh thyme and vegetables to the delicious smell it fills the entire house with as it roasts. As if that's not wonderful enough, the leftovers get made into chicken salad and Adam's famous chicken noodle soup.
There's a reason Harry proposed to Meghan over roast chicken. It's PERFECT.
Anyways. There we were at the countertop, Adam holding our chicken friend up as I sprinkled salt, pepper, and garlic powder all over the guy. Gus and Dewey were sitting at our feet and peering up hopefully.
I don't actually know what they'd do if an entire raw chicken hit the floor, but I feel like things would get primal real quick.
"Two dogs just ran through our driveway!" Adam exclaimed, nodding toward the window above the sink.
I ran out the backdoor with Adam close behind. We immediately tried calling to them. "We have treats!" we shouted.
They didn't believe our lies. "See ya suckers," is what their faces said as they dashed up the hill.
"I'll go drive after them," Adam declared, trying to slip into his gym shoes fast as he could.
"I'm coming, too!" I replied.
I dashed inside to turn off the oven, grabbed some treats as bait, and then hopped in the front seat of Adam's truck—we were off!
We had no luck as we drove slowly up the first street, looking down every driveway and side yard. When we came upon a walker, Adam wound down his window. "Have you seen two dogs running loose?" he asked her.
"Yes! Just ahead!" she said.
We were on their trail.
Finally, we spotted the plucky, shorter one. He looked like he could be a cousin of Clementine's. I briefly fantasized about no one claiming him and thus, him becoming a part of our family. We would name him Fonzie, I decided. Or maybe Tito.
"Hey buddy!" I smiled, holding out the jerky treats (we weren't playing games here). "Want a treat?"
Do you know what that dog did? He growled and snarled his teeth at me!
"Whoa," I said, as his husky friend appeared around the corner. "Maybe these dogs don't want to be caught."
Adam was undeterred, though.
"They're going to get hit by a car at this rate," he said, very upset and very determined to get these pups to safety.
Leaving his truck running in the middle of the street (sorry, neighbors!), Adam continued to follow the dogs, tempting them with the jerky. Occasionally, he would move his truck closer and open the back door, hoping one of them would jump inside, and we could find out the owner's contact information from a collar tag.
Alas, after ten minutes of growls and chasing, we had to call it quits. These dogs were determined to have their Sunday afternoon strolling the neighborhood with no chaperones.
After we got home, I posted on our neighborhood Facebook page detailing the dogs we'd seen. We were so relieved when another neighbor replied to say she'd just seen the owners retrieving their dogs.
PHEW.
As Adam slid our perfectly seasoned, perfectly stuffed chicken into the oven, I couldn't help but admire my animal-loving, chef of a husband.
He really is the bee's knees, and I am so darn lucky.
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