A wacky pigeon fancier's tale (Laurel and a Hardy bird)

I'm hungry, so what's for tea? Sweep waits for grub in the kitchen

Sweep is turning into a pigeon murderer. He's such loving and lovable character, but he's also a quick dog and his hunting instincts get the better of him at times. That may seem incongruous, but the other morning there was a trail of feathers on our back lawn leading through to the the next section of garden where Sweep normally chews on his bone treats. This time, the lifeless body of a chewed pigeon lay on the grass. I thought one of the many cats that roam the gardens might of done the dirty deed.
However, my sensible wife was not convinced because Sweep had managed to catch the occasional bird previously (without killing them) when they dare to touch down on his territory. She was convinced he was guilty. I countered with a plea of not guilty on his behalf, so the jury was out, the evidence purely circumstantial, my lord. I even thought about entering a plea of insanity because Sweep is a lovely, but mad little bugger.
Tonight, confirmation that Sweep must have been the perpetrator. As we were locking up the hens and goats for the night, he appeared with a pigeon in his mouth. He ran into some bushes, but my wife gave chase and yelled at him. He initially dropped the bird, but then picked it up again and raced down the garden. I gave chase and bellowed at him. That did the trick and he dropped the terrified bird, which half flew, half ran into laurel bushes. I told off Sweep and headed back for the house with the dog, but as I opened the door, our rogue of a Spaniel did a U-turn and went off in search of the bird again. Sure enough, he reappeared with the same bloody pigeon.
I shouted loudly again and Sweep dropped the bird. But instead of flying off into the evening sky, it opted to fly fly past me, narrowly missing my wife's head and went straight into the kitchen, then into the hallway and through the cloakroom doorway.

Sofa, so good: Hector decides too much drama is, well, err, too much

This was turning into a farce. We must have looked like Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy to the intrigued neighbours, alerted by the kerfuffle. Or did it seem like a clip from Wacky Races, with Sweep playing Muttley and Dick Dastardly all rolled into one? Stop the pigeon!
Somehow, our bird was still alive ... and obviously quite tame - and trusting. Big mistake with Sweep about.
The bird was ringed and seemed to be a domestic racing pigeon which had lost its way or was resting. It chose the wrong place to pit-stop. He is now sitting on a neighbour's fence at the front of our house in safety, while Sweep is desperate to get back in the enclosed back garden to find another bird to play with. My wife is simply relieved there's not one spot of bird poo in the house. "That's another fine mess..." Fortunately, not this time.
Hector, meanwhile, appeared to have a look of complete disdain as the drama unfolded and he simply watched from a safe distance. It obviously seemed like too much effort to join in, so he retired quietly to the sofa ... again.