Thank you, everyone, for your kind words about Ethel. I know it may seem silly to some to be sad about the passing of a chicken. But pet owners understand – a pet is a pet.
I’ve had literally dozens of pets in my life – so many, I’m not sure I could count them all – and damn if they haven’t all died eventually. It never gets any easier. And yet, I keep getting more.
Sometimes I daydream about what it must be like to be pet-less. To never have to look around your home wondering what container best suits the task of carrying a dead chicken to the vet’s office for cremation. The Amazon.com box? Too small. The printer box? Too big.
For one terrible moment I was afraid I might be reduced to using a festive glossy gift bag printed with balloons and glitter, emblazoned with the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” in fire engine red, four inch-high letters.
Luckily I found a nice sedate sage green paper shopping bag, from a yarn store which has since gone out of business.
But the world keeps on turning, and spring is here, and the frogs are back.
Click here to have a listen!
The frogs sound soothing and woodsy now. Within a few weeks their chorus will grow deafening, and I will have to resort to covering my head with a pillow until they go to sleep around midnight.
I miss the Pacific tree frog who lived in our yard in Oregon. All I hear now are dogs barking.
Oh the frogs sound fantastic! I can imagine how they’ll sound later on – we have cicadas here in summer, and sometimes you can’t go outside without earplugs. Seriously.
We have a solitary frog singing his song of love in our front pond. Frogs are a rarity here, so I’m completely stoked to be hosting one (plus a gazillion tadpoles, whee!)
Was terribly sorry to hear about Ethel. You’re right, it never gets easier. Hugs to you.
I’m so sorry to hear about Ethel. I have a friend who raises chickens and I know they much more than just egg making machines. They definitely have personalities.
Also, must say I agree about your yarn bombing post. Yarn bombing brings beauty to the everyday stuff of life and that’s better to me than just sitting around watching t.v. and doing *nothing*.
Being petless is something I cannot imagine, either. No warm furry purring body next to my head at night, no tail wagger when I come home. Of course, it would also mean being able to leave certain things unguarded — a plate of food, a loaf of bread, a ball of yarn. But life is far richer with a pet.
Love the frogs!
It doesn’t matter what shape it comes in, a life is a life. Your chicken was alive, now she’s not. It’s not the least bit silly to be sad about that. She was a buoyant little Life encased in a chicken suit.
{{{hugs}}}
I know this is wrong, but I actually laughed out loud about the happy birthday bag. I’m sure Ethel was rolling her eyes from chicken-heaven when you pulled it out.
I am so sorry about Ethel. I came here to see how it was going with your egg-bound lady, and was shocked to see that she died. This is indeed the problem with pets. Every time it’s a little tragedy brought into your life. But they bring so much joy, as well. And eggs, in Ethel’s case.
Sing on, froggies!
I can’t imagine being petless either. Without a cat in the house, it’s not a home to me. I hope the other three chickies are adapting OK. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.
In other news, I am so very glad you put that recording of the frogs up. I miss the sound of frogs and crickets outside my windows. We had snow today, but even when the weather’s nice we don’t have a lot of wildlife noises in Madison.
I too am sorry about Ethel. I had not read for several days and had to backtrack to get the story–I’m sorry. No one cried harder than my dad when my childhood pet guinea pig died…I don’t think the kind of pet matters so much as that it’s gone. Take care. <3