In anticipation of omelets everyday, Katelyn ambitiously met me at the door this morning with an empty 18 egg carton. Her silence on the drive to animal services was a clear sign of both her excitement and anxiety for what lay ahead.
Yesterday on my way to Aberdeen I absentmindedly answered my cell phone, and was instantly confused by the woman on the other end. She said she was with animal services. I paused to look over my shoulder to see if Shorty was still behind the seat in his usual “dead dog” position. There he was.
Could it be Nick’s dog Sarah? Had she run off again and somehow I had become one of her emergency contacts (yes I know that sounds insane, “oh please don’t call my parents, there not home, call my friend Shorty’s dad, he will bail me out”)? Certainly the days of the bark complaints had gone to the grave with both Ryder and our neighbor George, who both died of cancer within a year of each other. Plus Shorty had been on vacation the past few days and hadn’t spent a moment home alone in almost a week.
So in the sort of broken, “huh did you say fricken’?” kind conversation we all now enjoy with this "new hands free, still ok to be mentally oblivious statute", I eventually comprehended what she was trying to convey to me.
It all began very innocently after the death of both Ryder and Miles in the fall of 2006. While at the shelter donating some of our remaining dog food, misc. medications and some odds and ends left over from Kay’s cat Lucky, I inquired about their signup sheet for dogs. Jamie of course was still partial to the Border Collies but somehow Corgis were also being given consideration. I always thought them an odd sort, but after seeing a PBS special on the Queen and her own pack of this stubbed off breed, I figured if they are good enough for her, fine by me. So on the list for dogs our names went, with our specific requests noted.
But my curiosity was not yet curbed and so I began to investigate what else I could request. Goats, donkeys, pigs and sheep all have their appeal, but I felt that I might be mocked at Slater Stables if I showed up with any of these looking for another stall to rent. My family and long time friends know I have had rabbits and a rooster as pets and so they seemed ideal choices based on experience as well as our current living conditions.
So like a TLC series we first adopted GB and BB. Then Shorty. And now I was on my way to add two more to the roster.
As we pulled in to the parking lot Katelyn asked if Shorty could come in. With very little effort I convinced her that he would prefer to just wait this one out in the truck and was grateful that I did not have to give the shelter and overly negative connotation by using the term “doggy jail”.
We waited only moments and then were called to the counter where I enthusiastically announced our intentions to pick up the chickens. Trying not to be too rash, and affirm that I was committed, I asked if we could first see them. With some hesitation it was indicated that it was possible, but we were offered some pictures which they hoped might suffice. I was skeptical at first, but as you can all see, these gals are very photogenic and thus I relieved us all of my earlier request and accepted them without further inspection.
I filled out the endless pre adoption questionnaire, which is an earnest attempt in the animals’ interest to keep the ignorant and irresponsible from taking home a pet they cannot accommodate or know where to keep (that was how Shorty came our way). When I came to the questions about how many pet’s you have had in the last 5 years and what became of them, I had to fight the urge to comically write “BBQ”. But my professionalism prevailed and I rendered my $6 in adoption fees and was handed two cardboard carriers.
Katelyn eagerly took her charge , I mine, and out the door we went. We loaded the boxes into a large hay filled dog kennel in the back of the truck and then proceeded on to our next stop; the feed store.
At the feed store we quickly parlayed our $6 bargain into a $60 credit card receipt as we procured feed (organic of course), oyster shell, feeder and water dispenser. Katelyn assured me that the chickens would also need some special bird toys, but I convinced her that they would love our own hand made versions just as much as any store bought chicken toy, even though I am still unsure just what is considered “chicken appropriate”.
As we left the lot I went a little too speedily over the speed bumps and got nothing more than a skeptical glance when I said “looks like we will be getting scrambled eggs this week”. Unwilling to succumb to tall tales, Katelyn turned her focus to Shorty for more intelligent conversation on his new chicken friends and their plans when they arrive home.
After a brief stop at the bakery for nourishment we backed the truck up to the rear gate of the dog yard. After a lot of fussing, assembly and re arranging we were finally ready for the big moment. Already showing partiality for the lighter colored of the two, Katelyn selected her box and joined me in the newly converted dog kennel and we closed the door. As we opened the tops our new friends just stared up at us. I grabbed the red and she graciously let me lift her out. I tried to guide Katelyn to do the same, but at the last moment and showing good judgment, she left the task for me. Being an experienced hand, I had no real troubles but there was a bit of squawking and flapping.
We watched them for a moment and then closed the gate behind us as Katelyn rushed to get Shorty out as she assured me that he was eager to meet them. Already rabbit tested, I have no real concerns about Shorty other than his presence might cause the hens undue stress. Although excited, he merely showed genuine interest and trotted around the two accessible side of the kennel, intently observing the two birds. Keeping a polite distance, he kept a watchful eye, but never a bark or any sudden moves which might unduly roust them. And when it was time to go, he left willing to Katelyn’s lead.
As of now the two still remain unnamed. Numerous have been suggested, Chocolate and Sweetie, being repeated numerously as well as some suspiciously masculine names such as George and Roger. As many of you know I try to avoid anything too human as there is nothing more awkward than hosting a BBQ and realizing that some acquaintance or family has brought offspring with the same name as your family pet. However celebrities, politicians and royalty are exempt from this rule and thus this may afford me some relief although with neighbors with so obviously different political concerns than my own, this might also be avoided despite an inclination to name one of them “Madame Gregoire”.
