Sometimes I feel guilty about my Facebook posts and the things I inflict on my friends; relentless photos of my spoiled, hate-filled Chihuahua, obscure and irrelevant observations on the meaning of life and the occasional, tipsy, angry rant at the government.
Last week I wrote an unintelligible comment about me suffering the ill effects of a head cold accompanied by a random photo of a decidedly sick, but arbitrary chicken I’d sourced from Google.
Everyone thought it was my chicken who was sick so I received no sympathy but lots of lovely messages directed towards the unidentified chicken.
I was a bit upset about that… but I brought it on myself, I suppose.
The truth is that one of my chickens is actually mortally sick now. He’s been quite off for about six months and I’ve been researching the symptoms on the Internet.
He’s stumbling around like me on a Saturday night after a long lunch with Scotto and yesterday he performed three, very feathery, dramatic forward rolls and then couldn’t get up again… just like me on a Saturday night after a long lunch with Scotto.
It was very upsetting to witness.
Today, in a last ditch effort to reclaim an innocent and virtuous, galline life, Scotto and I headed down to Uncle Tom’s Chicken Establishment in order to acquire some chicken antibiotics.
“Is that the same sickly rooster you asked me about months ago?” asked the incredulous lady at Uncle Tom’s.
She was probably wondering why we haven’t taken an axe to it.
“I think he might have an ear infection,” I stammered nervously. “I’ve looked it up on all the chicken forums.”
She looked at me with a sense of benevolence and leaned in confidingly. “You know he might just be a special needs rooster,” she whispered. "Inbreeding is a common thing around these parts," she added supportively.
“No!” I barely stopped myself from shouting at her. “He’s not special needs! He just has an ear infection!”
So anyway, tonight he is locked in the cat cage with the (expensive) antibiotics fizzing malevolently away in his water supply and I’m expecting a miraculous recovery by tomorrow.
If not… (fx) sound of axe being sharpened.
It was very upsetting to witness.
Today, in a last ditch effort to reclaim an innocent and virtuous, galline life, Scotto and I headed down to Uncle Tom’s Chicken Establishment in order to acquire some chicken antibiotics.
“Is that the same sickly rooster you asked me about months ago?” asked the incredulous lady at Uncle Tom’s.
She was probably wondering why we haven’t taken an axe to it.
“I think he might have an ear infection,” I stammered nervously. “I’ve looked it up on all the chicken forums.”
She looked at me with a sense of benevolence and leaned in confidingly. “You know he might just be a special needs rooster,” she whispered. "Inbreeding is a common thing around these parts," she added supportively.
“No!” I barely stopped myself from shouting at her. “He’s not special needs! He just has an ear infection!”
So anyway, tonight he is locked in the cat cage with the (expensive) antibiotics fizzing malevolently away in his water supply and I’m expecting a miraculous recovery by tomorrow.
If not… (fx) sound of axe being sharpened.
