by Joyce had just warmed up some leftovers for our Sunday evening dinner when she glanced out the kitchen window and saw several dogs running toward the shop. The gate was open from people coming and going. Cookie happened to be in the area and the two pit bill-types and one of similar size but different breed rousted him immediately. He managed to get on top of the chicken house where he was safe, though it may not have appeared so to him with the three dogs circling below looking for a way to get at him. In the mean time I ran out to the garage, yanked on my boots, grabbed my baseball bat and headed for the shop at full gallop, or what passes for that anymore. Half way there I saw that the dogs had managed to spook Cookie into abandoning the chicken house roof and attempting to make it to one of the junipers nearby. They caught him before he could reach the safety of the tree. He was giving all he had and might have had a chance against just one but had no chance against three. I was roaring like a maniac in hopes of bridging the distance before Cookie succumbed to their tender mercies. I was also hoping I could get there soon enough to administer some tender mercies of my own to his attackers with my bat. Luckily my war cry aroused their curiosity in time and when they stopped to inquire, Cookie was up the tree in a flash. As I closed on them they took off and, though I chased them all over SA, I was never able to get close enough to apply the bat. Cowards that they were, they wouldn’t stand and fight. Three on one about a quarter their size was more their style. It took Cookie over an hour before he was ready to come down from his perch and go in the shop for his dinner. He was the worse for wear with a gash in his back and a significant limp. I suspect he’ll be one stiff kitty for a few days.