It all started with two dogs, one chicken and one goat. At that stage we had just moved up to the farm and we were loving every minute of it! Everyone just wanted to explore every inch of the farm, the house and every other place in sight. The house was perfect for us, the rooms large and spacious and oh joyous! there were actually two bathrooms. This might not seem like an awesome discovery to you, but to us it was wonderful. Trust me, when there are four women in the house, one bathroom just ain't enough. Especially if three of those women happen to be teenagers, each going through a different phase.
Our dogs were very surprised at all the space. Jock was a Staffy and Lady was a rottweiler cross something or other. The day we moved up to the farm was a real scorcher, so both dogs found a spot in the garden and collapsed. Typically, Lady picked a piece of ground under the massive lemon tree, promptly dug a hole large enough to hold not only herself but three other dogs as well, and then stretched out and slept.
Jock, on the other hand, had discovered the big tank outside the kitchen. He sat under the tap and then when we didn't get the point he scowled, pouted and eventually started howling. We got the point...and turned on the tap. Ice cold water gushed out and poured down his chubby face. He grinned!
Humans, he decided, weren't too stupid after all. It just takes a bit of persuasion and hinting, that's all.
It took ages to move all the boxes and furniture where we wanted them but eventually we had everything unpacked and were nicely settled in.
That is when all the trouble started. After getting settled in, I mean. It always happens with this family. We get settled into a place and then the trouble starts. I suppose this time I can't really call it trouble, at least, not in the strict sense of the word.
It wasn't long before everyone, including all the animals in the vicinity, figured out that we were a bunch of suckers. Obviously, we were the only ones who didn't figure it out until it was too late.
Our neighbor had a lot of chickens that he kept in a big run. Every morning they were let out to scratch and roam around in the fields. One morning, after a night of rain and hail, one of the chickens became adventurous and got into our garden where it calmly proceeded to scratch up the newly planted-only-last-week pansies. This was undoubtedly a disaster of the most grave nature. It had my sister in a terrible rage.
A chicken was in HER flowers!!
I sent up a silent prayer for the chicken, who was still blissfully unaware of the stir it was causing, knowing that there was a chance it just wouldn't survive the next few minutes. I had, however, forgotten all about Mother.
My sister dashed outside and left all the doors open behind her. I heard her yelling insults and abuse at the chicken whilst that adventurous fowl tore around the front lawn looking very much as if it wished it could fly. For one tiny second I saw roast chicken with fresh peas and potatoes and then I ran off to help my sister catch the sinning chicken.
We should have been more careful, we should have known that in a few seconds all would turn to chaos. We, however, were only aware of the chicken and weren't capable of reasoning with Murphy about his very tiresome law.
With a yell that could be heard all the way to the next farm, my sister took a flying leap at the passing chicken. Naturally she missed, lost her balance, slipped on the very wet grass and landed with a terrible thud and a howl of pain and frustration on the grass. For a minute I thought the breath must have been knocked out of her but before I could even get near her she was up with a leap and after that doomed chicken. (I hope you haven't forgotten about Mother...)
Remember the open doors? Well, in all the excitement, we had forgotten them. With a small cackle of triumph that fiendish fowl neatly sidestepped a tackle, ducked under my legs and disappeared into the house. We saw it waddle quickly down the passage and skid around the corner and into my sister's bedroom. Oh boy! That chicken is so roasted now!!
All the doors were carefully shut and then we tried once more to catch that terrible fowl. My sister, still quite upset with said fowl, was prepared to forgive and forget now that she had calmed down slightly, only she forgot all her good intentions when she saw (or rather, smelt) what said bird had done under her bed! For days that room smelt so bad she had to sleep on the couch in the living room.
That's it, I thought, that chicken doesn't have a hope in the world now. Not a prayer, nada.
I had, however, forgotten Mother.
"But sweetheart, just think! Fresh eggs for breakfast (quite clever, Mother, knowing full well my sister's favourite was scrambled eggs), and if we get a rooster we can hatch out some eggs and raise the chicks and then we will have more chickens...yes of course we'll keep them in a run..."
Needless to say, it didn't turn out that way at all.
...to be continued
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