The first day my rooster waited and watched from a sunny spot normally shared with his pal and protector Cletus, a mostly blind and somewhat deaf 13 year-old redbone hound mix. She had the rooster convinced he was safe relaxing anywhere she was close.
The second and third days, after signaling the days arrival form his perch in a nearby cedar, he set up post in her doghouse. He came out briefly to eat his portion of her food and drink a bit from her waterbucket. Then he marched right back to the doghouse, sitting in the doorway watching and waiting.
Later in the week when I called for her, knowing that was silly since she couldn’t hear my yells, the rooster circled me in expectation, anticipating the hound’s appearance from the brush she seldom ventured into anymore.
The rooster waited for my return when I searched the woods, turning his back to me the moment I appeared without Cletus at my heels. She strolled at my heels the last week or two, nudging my hand to get me to rub her ears or pat her belly if she dropped and rolled over playfully.
The last night she was home, the rooster and I both visited Cletus a bit later than usual. She was stretched out on a bed of straw I had made for her on the carport so she would have a comfortable option if she didn’t feel like using the doghouse. As I rubbed her ears and under her chin, she wagged her tail lazily to let me know she was enjoying the extra attention. The rooster was hanging around as though he wanted his ears rubbed, too. 🙂 (I guess roosters have ears, somewhere.)
I heard her in the night, barking at the edge of the woods as she did sometimes if she caught the scent of a deer. Later I remember thinking her barking sounded far away.
She hasn’t returned. I’ve given the rooster her name.