I was out of state this weekend for my Dad's birthday when I got a call from my neighbor. My dogs had somehow broken into the run and gone on a rampage. My FIL was able to get to the house and round up the survivors. He was also sweet enough to take away those who didn't make it so that I wouldn't have to see them. Out of my 18 chickens, I found 6 huddled in the coop. One BO cockerel looks pretty rough but he seems to be feeling O.K. and is alert so I am hoping for the best. My flock only had 3 boys and they somehow all survived. Of course, my favorite pullet, Nanny Ogg, was one of those I lost. After I had my good cry and was out in the garden with my husband, he pointed outside our yard and we saw a little Partridge Rock pullet running around. I went to get her and she was so scared and lost that she came right too me! The survivors all seemed dazed but healthy and I'm thankful that I have them. I'm trying not to be angry at the dogs because I know they were just doing what dogs do, but I still can't bring myself to pet them. It is really getting to me because most of the things I love to do-watch my chickens, garden near their run, and hang out on BYC, all carry a tinge of sadness. I could definitely use some cheerful happy thoughts being sent my way.