Poor Max

[jigglestick]

as some of you know, insurance companies are trying to make up for a slumping market like every other buisiness out there in these trying times. being a person who recognizes such plights, I try to spread out my earnings, patronizing small buisinesses doing my share.

when my agent told me they offer a company who now carries pet insurance, knowing I was going to have to leave my beloved max at the farm of my inlaws for the weekend to attend the anual IBOT fest.
I scooped up a policy as quick as I could write the check, hoping to never have to cash in on it.
my agent obliged me, reasuring me this was the best pet insurance I could buy.

dropping off Max was a difficult task. separation anxiety brings out the baby in those who suffer from it. all the whimpering, uncrollable panting and leg grabbing were I'm sure hard to bear. but my wife finaly pried my arms from around his hind legs and loaded me in the truck.

the day away from him was tough. I kept thinking of him, but the beer and shotguns and food and friends helped keep my mind off of being gone, but something kept bugging me. I could sense something wasn't right, yet I told myself everything was just fine, it must be the heat and beer getting to me.

sunday morning brought a sense of urgency to packing and getting home. I wasn't sure exactly why. was it my sixth sense? was it the longing to see my old buddy Max again? what ever it was, we packed and made short order of cleanup of the fest site, bid our farewells, giving thanks and made our way home.

I went to the farm to get max and when I arived, I could tell something wasn't right.
there were feathers all over the yard, and Max was not in the kennel like I expected.
when I looked to my mother inlaw, she pointed to the shed. I looked in the shed and saw nothing. she said "No, he's under the shed".
It seemed as though Max had found his way out of the kennel. in an effort to entertain himself, he thought to introduce himself to the chickens.
the odd thing of the matter was, the chickens didn't particularily care to be bothered and quite promptly turned the game onto Max the dog. they came at him. all of them, at once. pecking him and squaking beating him with their wings and spurring him to no end. this dog was chicken whupped and he knew it. he made a B line for the shed and didn't crawl out until I called him out, coaxing him out with a polish sausage. even then, he cowered, searching back and fourth for any sign of the chickens. he was never so happy to get into the truck.

my mother inlaw apollogized to no end saying that he hoped he would be alright, offering to pay for a vet check.
I said don't worry, we have pet insurance.

the next morning, we took him directly to the vet. after a thorough check-up, the vet said that max's physical health seemed ok, he seemed a little dehydrated, but the biggest concern was his mental health. I said "doc, what can we do" he told us that Max was suffering from " post traumatic stress disorder".
I said that that sounded serious and he said that it was fairly serious and the treatment was costly, but with a steady regimine of therapy he could be cured. "do you have insurance" he asked. "Why yes we do" I stated proudly. after reading through the policy he sighed and said "I think we have a problem". "what do you mean" I asked?
he said"it's right here in the fine print at the bottom, " all major physical and mental ailments are covered".
I said " thats good right?"
he said "yes, but if you read farther down, it also states right here" "there must be no evidence of FOWL play"

[Spinach]

You a$$.

[Harold]

Nice way to make that your own, Jiggle.? I was chuckling all the way through till I got the part where I figured Max was for sure dead, and you were going to collect the insurance (never said what kind, I figured it was Life).

Wouldn't it just suck if you were a dog and got attacked by a bunch of Chickens?? How humiliating.? Poor Max will never live that down.? ?

[GRIZ]

And you plan to take him hunting birds? ??? ???