Midnight and I'd just gotten to sleep. Thoughts from the murder mystery I read before bed were spinning in my mind. I was alone in my house - unless you want to count my little dog and two cats. A horrible racket just outside my door brought me upright and my little dog poised for attack. Did I hear it right? It sounded like chickens being stirred into a frenzy. After grabbing my coat, my slippers and a flashlight, my dog and I plunged out into the night to confront the enemy. Standing beside the chicken wire fence, in my pajamas, my mind began to list the possibilities: a grizzly bear? A serial murderer? A cougar? A monster as yet unknown to mankind? And I had a flashlight to defend myself. Wouldn't it be more productive, and safer, to wait until daylight to probe this mystery? My dog and I marched back indoors, crawled back into bed and waited for dawn. I am sorry to admit that I failed my little flock of chickens that night. More than half my flock was slaughtered by some ruthless, cruel degenerate that smelled a lot like a skunk. I also discovered that while I enjoy writing and reading mysteries, I am not rushing out in the dark again to solve one.
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