The Last Egg

Me: did the big chicken in the sky let you in?

Lucy:

Me: still not speaking to me, Luce?

Lucy:

Me: you know Lucy, we had our differences, but on some level you were always my favourite. You were the biggest chicken with the most beautiful plumage. You laid my first egg – I know you never read my blog, but I wrote a post about it. It was a ‘jumbo’ egg on the US Sizing scale. I was very proud.

Lucy:

Me: I shed a tear or two and I’m not ashamed.

Lucy:

Me: I really thought I could win you over, given time and enough grapes, but now you’ll always be a mystery: the hen that ran the other way. I wonder, did you live your life in fear that something bad would happen? And when it finally did, were you relieved? or did you think, smugly, ‘I knew this was coming, I just knew it!’?

Lucy:

Me: I blame myself you know. I knew it was a risk you sleeping in that bush, but you went to the same place every night and you hated it when I moved you – you’d squawk like a banshee under a bed. Belle thought you went there to enjoy the sunset. I told myself that you’d be ok up high; I told myself you were well camouflaged amongst the leaves; I told myself Lucy can look after herself. But I was wrong – you were my responsibility and I failed you.

Lucy:

Me: I searched and hoped and hoped and searched. Even when I found the pile of feathers right under where you slept I tried to reason that they weren’t yours, that you may have gotten away. At least you struggled. Can you at least tell me what took you?

Lucy:

Me: I’ve consulted the predator detective key in Raising Chickens by Gail Damerow. It seems a fox is most likely, although how it got you up in the bush I don’t know. My brother says they can jump pretty high.

Lucy:

Me: goddammit Lucy – throw me a bone. I take that back; terrible phraseology considering the circumstances.

Lucy:

Me: how abut this. Lucy, say nothing if it was a fox.

Lucy:

Me: OK, good. I thought it was a fox. Now, say nothing if you had a deep psychological issue that had nothing to do with me or my inadvertent actions.

Lucy:

Me: that’s good to know. I’ll sleep easier now. You know it’s the ones who are left behind who really suffer.

Lucy:

Me: one last thing, Lucy. Even though you were crazy, you were a good hen.

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  1. Belle mentioned that this post may seem like I think Lucy being taken is all a joke – the joke is just a coping mechanism – I’m actually quite devastated.

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