My Chicken Story

I have a dog--Queensland heeler, black lab mix, by instinct a herder.--and I live in the barrio.  I was here long before the cultural change.  In past years my neighborhood was all white except for one black family.  Now, I am the only white person living here, but we co-exist peaceably.  I have grown accustomed to many cultural changes--mariachi music, mamas calling to their children in Spanish, and chickens. Some of my neighbors raise a few chickens.  In the morning, the rising sun is greeted by the crowing of a rooster--a pleasant sound.
The scene is set. 
I was watching TV in the living room, when I heard a terrible ruckus.  A chicken came flying into the room followed by my dog, tail wagging, barking like crazy.  Chicken hides behind a chair, dog lays down, woofing softly, inviting chicken to come and play.  Getting a broom (after taking the blanket off my head and quitting screaming like a girl), I chased chicken out the living room door, but dog runs outside and tries to herd it back in through the doggy door.  I finally encourage chicken to fly over the back yard fence to its home.  Poor dog, she sits outside whining, begging chicken to come back and play.  I think she believes I am a mean lady--chasing away her friend.