Okay. If you're going to have a whole chicken just sitting there, in the open on your picnic blanket, then I think it's fair game. I don't understand what all the fuss was about.

We were out for a stroll in Kensington Gardens. I wasn't on my leash because here, apparently, you can be untethered in the park and it's not against the law or anything. I'm minding my own business, wandering around, eating a little grass, when suddenly the most incredibly, delicious odor comes wafting past me. At first I thought it was coming from the ground and I put my nose very close to the grass. Even tried to dig a bit with it (I have a pretty big nose). I'm not suppose to do that, so I stopped (ok, maybe not right away, but I had to make sure the smell wasn't coming from there) and tried to figure out the direction of the delectable scent.

Next thing I knew my body took on a life of it's own. It galloped toward the smell, and was rewarded with a large, beautiful rotisserie chicken. Suddenly there was a lot of yelling and commotion. I took off, the whole chicken hanging out of my mouth. I didn't care if I kept hearing "drop it".  I was not going to surrender my chicken. I found it fair and square. Only way to solve the problem was to gulp it down. Chicken gone. Problem solved.

Geesh. I don't know why my person is so angry with me. The people whose chicken it was seemed very happy. They were laughing and taking pictures of me. They didn't even take the money my person offered them to pay for the chicken. Clearly, they wanted me to have it all along.

Oh, one more thing, if you're going to run away with a chicken in your mouth, I advise not running into Kensington Palace.

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    Hi. I'm Cooper Dog, but you can call me Cooper. I'm heading to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe as part of the LISTEN! THE RIVER team.


    July 2012