This is not an obituary
Spoon did not turn up at rollcall Friday night. My favorite chicken didn’t come home to roost.
You remember Spoon, the goofiest of Polands? I’ve been bailing her out of trouble since she was a chick.
She wasn’t in the field next door (she’s done this). She wasn’t in the neighbor’s garden (and this). She wasn’t up a tree (multiple times) or on a roof (she quickly discovered that’s where the bees are). Once it gets dark, you kind of have to give up and hope for the best come morning.
Next day, Uncle B came down early and the cat was complaining loudly. There was a chicken in the kitchen. Standing back in a corner, silently. We remember finding her in the kitchen at noon (they sneak in for cat food), but we had no idea she never left.
She’d been there all afternoon and all evening while we were banging around cooking lunch and then supper. The lights must have interfered with her sleep, but she didn’t make a sound. Just standing there.
Of course, being a chicken, she had shat all over the floor, but hey.
May 30, 2022 — 6:14 pm
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