Chicken had a fit yesterday because she heard The Fairy say that we were having roast chicken for tea. When I’d managed to calm her down and demand that she speak clearly, she told me that she wasn’t very pleased at the prospect of being eaten. I explained that we were having chicken and not Chicken and that chicken was poultry and Chicken was a dog.
She didn’t seem to know what a chicken was so I took her for a walk past the allotments and we stopped to look at the chickens. It was at this point that she became a little confused, appearing to believe that she was supposed to pick one of the chickens and take it home so The Fairy could cook it. Luckily the coop was fox-proof, and by extension, Chicken-proof.
By which I mean Chicken and not chickens. Although obviously it is chicken-proof, otherwise there wouldn’t have been any chickens in it. They would have been all over the road.
Anyway, suffice it to say she returned to the house in a much better frame of mind, and her happiness and excitement increased in direct correlation with the aroma coming from the oven.
By tea time, she was hysterical again.
Monty
Greyhounds In Charge 