Chicken and lamb

It was very hot again today, 38 degrees.  We live in the foothills of the central massif  and normally that helps to cool things down, but not today.  We tried to do usual things, gardening, shopping etc.  About 5pm there came the sound of frantic squawking. The nearby farmer does not keep a good rein on his hens or his dog.  The latter had caught one of the former and was toying with it like a cat plays a mouse.  Bad enough that this massacre was playing out on the roadway outside our kitchen window, but then he went and dragged the poor hen into our garden, murder on the lawn!  I ran out and turned the hose on the blasted dog, which first turned at me in an attempt at defiance and then ran off with a very wet tail between its legs.  The outcome of all this was a big feathery heap lying on our lawn.  I strode off to chase the dog away properly and confront the farmer, but my resolve was (wisely) weakening with each step.  My very kind neighbour, Pierre, intervened just as I was about to knock on the farmer's door and advised caution (our farmer neighbour is toothily fierce and more than a bit mad).  In fact, Pierre said to me "the dog is just as mad as Jean-Claude".  So he and I went back to where we last saw the poor hen only to find that it had completely disappeared!  Now, I know there is an ironic juxtaposition between saving the hen (we had saved the hen) and eating a lamb, but we did have a lovely barbecue of lamb chops which I had marinaded in cider vinegar, soy sauce and honey.  Roast veggies and rosé wine (just a simple vin de pays d'Oc) to accompany.  And, would you believe it, as we ate the hen made a miraculous reappearance from under the big laurel hedge, where it had obviously been hiding (see extra)