A hundred times in the last week I have gone to sweep the bread crumbs out the back door and no one has been there to greet me.
No warbely cackle, no pecking at the screen…
The eggs in my fridge are store bought.
They are not blue.
Many tears were shed by all of us as we loaded our girls…
The City Chicks…
The Hens Austen…
In the Suburban and drove them fifteen minutes down the road.
To the country.
Juliette keeps going to the back door too…
wanting to see “her ladies”.
We were rearing to fight. Ready to appeal. To give ’em hell.
Plans to invite the Mayor over for lunch.
Plans to give a coop tour.
Thoughts of retaliation.
Fantasies of kicking my neighbors door in! (Insert evil laughter!)
I thought about getting a legal Pot Bellied pig (To see if my neighbors would like THAT smell!)
Then, I contemplated a GIANT sheep dog. (Not my style).
Then Joel and I sat down and considered the energy all of that would take for me.
All the emotional energy.
And we decided it’s time to follow thru on a dream instead.
There’s a for sale sign in my front yard.