Dear The Paw Tribe,
Thank you for supporting me a few weeks ago when I accidentally killed one of my mom’s chickens. I would like to report that my mom and I are getting a lot better. But I am afraid that the chicken incident has spun into effect a whole other set of problems; the chickens are taking over my life. Literally.
First, I need to mention that I had this great gig going with mom and dad. It was just the three of us and we did everything together. But now its the 6 of us, and there are three feathery friends that are not welcome.
It started a few days after the chicken died. I mom went into the chicken coop and picked up one the chickens. Then she sat down in the grass while holding it in her arms and petting its head tenderly. She called me over and every time I launched at the chicken she would say “bad dog.” Finally, I decide to cooperate, since I was sorry about what happened. I sat next to the chicken and licked its face. I was handsomely rewarded with a little nibble sent from my grandma in America. I pranced back inside to my perch and took a nice nap.
When I woke up, I heard my mom from the other room talking like she talks to me, “good baby, good baby.” I rounded the corner to see who she was talking to and I almost fell over when I saw my mom sitting in my chair with one the chickens named Thatcher in her lap. The chicken was sitting in my chair with my mom and she was petting and cooing at the chicken. The whole scene made me sick. I barked in protest and then headed back to my bed and my blanket that mom gave me. At least, the chicken couldn’t have my bed. This was my bed.
A few days later I walked into the kitchen and got the shock of my life. Another one of the chickens named Tubman was sitting on my bed all cozy in my blanket from mom. I kid you not, Tubman was sitting right there on my bed. At this point, I had had enough. If the chickens were in my house with my parents, I was going to go get in the chicken house again. I soon found it tightly barracked and wasn’t able to make my point.
But yesterday was the last straw.
I went upstairs to find my mom on the bed cuddling Parks, the chicken. I am not even allowed in the bed and there mom was holding the chicken while reading a book.
I am at the end of my rope. Next I bet I will find the chicken in the shower or making dinner with mom. I wouldn’t be surprised if they moved the chicken house inside or let them sleep in my bed and put me in outside in the coop.
Lots of wags,
Ginger, the African Princess
To see more pictures of me and hear more about my wild adventures in Ethiopia, follow my adopted mom @elizabeth.j.w.spencer (instagram) and at www.makingmebrave.com.