Chicken: Everyone's Favorite Catahoula Pup

Please note that Chicken is actually an old man. He is convinced he is not a dog and that everyone in our home belongs to him and not the other way around.

At this point, I think I personally know everyone who has subscribed to my page. But, for those who aren't privy to my life who have happened upon this page, my dog's name is Chicken. He is a Catahoula, Rottweiler/Lab mix. This is a snippet of his story.

Chicken DaMonkey <3

Breed Characteristics

Most people are familiar with the Rottweiler/Lab mix so I am going to focus on the Catahoula breed. The Catahoula origins are a bit hard to pinpoint because quite a mixture of genes. But, it is suspected that the lineage began in the mid-1700s as a result of the cross-breeding of the French Beauceron and the Louisianna local swamp, hunting wolfdogs that were Native American owned. This was an attempt to create the ultimate hunting/herding/working dog breed. This breed is the only dog breed that historically originated in Louisiana and in 1979 was named the official state dog.

Early discipline training made them the ultimate herding dog and they are known for their dedication to work exhibiting great endurance, agility and high energy levels.

Where Our Story Began

Chicken was born on my grandmother's property that sat in the hills of St. Ann, Jamaica overlooking the Caribbean Sea. His mother, Beauty, was a Black Lab and Rottweiler mix and she managed to seduce our big shy Catahoula, Baby, with her feminine wiles. It is hard to determine Chicken's exact age because Beauty had back to back litters around that time. The puppies were beautiful though. Some looked like the common Jamaican dogs, while others resembled the lab genes. But there were a few spotted little ones that went very quickly when giving them away to friends. My grandmother lived by herself for the most part, with a gardener at times that stayed on property, so she kept a pack of guard dogs on her property to ensure her safety. Luckily, Chicken was one of those dogs.

He is mild in temperament and was often bullied by his father and brother. Now and then he would have cuts on him because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had recently moved out of my family household and into my own house in a not so great area. My grandma was in the process of selling her house and was trying to get the dogs into loving homes and it was the perfect time to adopt a dog. I was torn between Chicken and his brother, both beautifully spotted, but his brother had gorgeous eyes split horizontally. Each eye was blue on the top half and brown on the bottom half. I honestly would have taken both of them if I could have but I just didn't have the space for two. The more I interacted with their personalities during my visits to my grandma's house, the more I realized that Chicken was the better match. His brother was too aggressive towards me when he was excited, playful but painful biting of my arms and just full body tackling me upon my arrival. Chicken was shy but very friendly and I am a sucker for an underdog.

I finally got settled into my new place and made the 2 hour drive to my grandma's house to collect Chicken. He HATED the car and I had to pick him up and get into the passenger side of the car with him and close the door before he could escape. He hopped in the back of the car and only then could I climb over to the driver seat to make our way to our new home. He panted and cried majority of the way to Montego Bay and then when we got to the house, he refused to get out of the vehicle!

I phoned a friend to assist and while we waited I begged and pleaded with Chicken (his name was Bronzy at the time). He refused to answer to his name or budge from the car. I was exasperated and eventually yelled 'Ugh, you're such a chicken!' and his ears perked. He eventually got out of the car and every time I called Bronzy he would ignore me but if I called him Chicken he came running up. And that folks is how he got his name.

Originally he was an outside dog with no training. But with me, he became an inside dog. I was worried about the training he would require and the difficulty since he was already over a year old, but he figured out the command 'Sit' almost immediately and he was self house trained (to my pleasant surprise!) Once we got him out of the car and into the house, he refused to go outside with other dogs barking in the area. So when I was going to work, I left a small piece of newspaper in the corner and expected to come home to a world of mess in my house. But he managed to do his business on that piece of paper and with time we eased him into going into the yard.

Chicken's name was very fitting because he was afraid of EVERYTHING. I think that the gardener may have used fear tactics as a means to influence the dogs' behaviors, so any fast movements would get him to curl up and flinch and he refused to go near anyone that he didn't know (anyone except my grandmother and myself). But over time, with a little TLC and introducing him to some of the wonderful people in my life, he came out of his shell a bit and warmed up more easily to strangers rather than running for the hills instantly. I always joked that I would only know if there was a threat outside my house because Chicken would be running past me to hide. (That still might be true today.)

Eventually we got him a best friend. A small, tenacious kitten that I named Fawkes. That cat was not aware that he was a cat and behaved like a dog. I saw him circled by a pack of street dogs once and they were stunned when we drew back his paw and slapped them all across the face and before they could react he was up the tree looking triumphant. But oh how he had a soft spot for Chicken. They would play roughly and chase eachother around my living room.

In many ways I believe Fawkes made Chicken grow a pair and stop being so afraid of the world. They did everything together. I would walk Chicken and Fawkes would find his way outside and follow our path meowing and hiding behind tall grass until Chicken passed and he would jump on his head and take off running towards the house. They were inseparable; never saw one without the other for the better part of three years. Always creating some sort of mischief together. Soul brothers and absolute best friends.

Chicken would come inside from our walks and Fawkes would start cleaning him, licking his head and removing the bits of grass from his fur. Chicken would move in the slightest and Fawkes would slap him and hold Chicken's face with his paws and continue cleaning until he thought he was sufficiently tidy.

One day Fawkes went missing and Chicken and I walked around our neighborhood calling him for about two days. We eventually found him and he had been killed by some stray dogs in the area. I cried like a baby but when Fawkes passed, Chicken was depressed for weeks. Barely ate, cried randomly, didn't want to do much or go anywhere. He lost his best friend and I felt terribly for him. Fawkes was an awesome cat. Another character that was sure that he wasn't the species that he was. RIP my sweet boy <3

The BIG Migration! Jamaica to the USA

Over the years, Chicken had moved with me a few times in Jamaica. Different houses, different cities, anywhere I went, he followed. The pandemic hit and the world went crazy. We tried moving closer to the family that I still had on the island but ultimately I made the decision, with a heavy heart, to move back to the states to be with my mother and siblings. Bringing Chicken with me would be an investment and we wouldn't be able to easily bring him back to Jamaica if we moved him because Jamaica is a rabies-free nation, while America is not. But we put together all the documentation necessary for him to move with me and we moved to Florida.

I found a contact through Kennel Club and they helped me sort the shipping process to get my beautiful fur baby to my mother and await my arrival. Although my mother was not the fondest person of dogs, she went to the airport in the middle of the night to collect Chicken from the airline's freight department. He was anxious and smelly and evidently scared. The next day I got pictures from my mom of Chicken freshly groomed and she got him the soothing, relaxation package with lavender oils and buffing of the nails. I think that my scent being present in the house with some of my belongings paired with the fact that my mother resembles me and was doting on him with the help of my younger siblings did the trick. The abundance of attention and the dog equivalent of junk food seemed to help him forget his traveling anxieties enough for me to focus on moving my entire life to another country.

Fast forward a bit, and we get to our current life. We have been here a little over a year now. Since then, he has gotten groomed, been in a grocery store, gone to the beach, done roadtrips, made friends, moved apartments, tried a variety of foods and overall just been spoiled and gained weight. He loves people now because he thinks everyone that has food in their hand is obligated to share. He is a zoomies extraordinaire and willingly jumps in the car out of fear of being left behind (but pants the ENTIRE trip). He loves my boyfriend more than he loves me which was made evident when he climbed over me, pushed me to the side with the forceful nudge of his paw and progressively made his way more and more into the center of Micah's chest as I lay a dog's arm-length away. He guilt trips everyone around him for head rubs and belly scratches and loves to believe that he is the man of the house in charge of all things worth paying attention to. He is a very special boy to say the very least.

Personality of an Old (Human) Man

You know those compilation videos of old men grunting as they sit down or get up or stretching or just because? We could easily do the same with Sir Chicken. If you move too much in his presence, he is very verbal about his disapproval. He refuses to bark at a knock at the door or anything that would 'protect' his humans, but to lay down, everyone knows because of the noises that he makes, out of view, in the distance.

I've only seen Chicken bark at ONE human being and to me it was a sign that he couldn't be trusted. Other than that, he will bark at a dog, behind a barrier, if they approach his territory, then run towards me crying like he's asking if it was okay that he barked. He only ever growls out of excitement when one of his favorite people comes home and is taking too long to put down their belongings that deter them from petting him IMMEDIATELY.

I thought this could be a characteristic of his breed since Catahoulas are often used for hunting but it doesn't seem to be the case. I've never seen such a lazy hunting/working dog in my life. He loves his walks but any other time you search the corners of the house for him, he is happily sleeping with a smile on his face.

He has become so accustomed to the good life that we have had to ensure that we close our bedroom doors when we leave the house because the perfectly made beds with the clean sheets would have a Chicken sized ruffled spot with an outline of hair as evidence that he was on the bed while he thought no one was watching.

You will find that we will talk about him in our household and he will ignore it. But when you say something about him that would be mildly offensive if you said it about your human counterparts, you turn your head to look at him and you will find that he is side-eyeing you with attitude and judgement that rivals a human. My entire family is convinced that he is not aware that he is a dog and that he FULLY understands us when we speak.

I am honestly very proud of his progress personality wise. He is quiet but his personality speaks volumes for the pup that he is. He knows what he wants and he forces everyone around him to comply and ensure that he gets it! He is a testament to what a difference your environment can make to the quality of your life. If you would have told me that he would be this 'personable' 5 years later, I would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. But, that's my baby and I am eternally grateful for all the craziness he has been by my side for. Micah jokes and says that he is all of my anxieties embodied, and I don't doubt it at all because he has stuck with me through thick and thin and dried many a tear with his beautiful spotted coat. That's my best friend and I am happy to be his.

Look at that mischievous smile :)

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