I have decided that I’m never going home at lunchtime to check on things and grab a quick bite to eat ever again. Never. Ever. Again.
Why, you ask?
Because I don’t want to know.
At lunch time I’m in office clothes. At lunch time I’m hungry, and crabby, and tired, and ready for a break. At lunch time I’m alone.
Except for cats…
…Who have been well trained by our previous resident rooster to be terrified of chickens.
And a horse…
…Who is still mad because I called her fat and wouldn’t share my toast with her yesterday.
So what’s a girl to do? Well, this girl went inside, had a sandwich, checked the mail, and let the dog out. Then I went back to work.
Yep, they were still there when we got home at 5:45 that evening. If PETA ever had to deal with these chickens they would realize the bigger crime is eating carrots. They have more brainpower. Those chickens were out all day (or at least since noon) and did nothing but mill around outside the pen squawking and flapping and making big, fat targets of themselves for all the local chicken-eating wildlife.
They were certainly no match for my reinforcements.
