By 7 o'clock I had already fed the pups and gone out for a little walk with them so they could do their business. I then started the laundry while simultaneously dusting and reorganizing the kitchen cabinets.
By 9 o'clock the laundry was done, the kitchen was clean, the dogs all got doused with flea spray, the chicken was fed, the floors were swept and I had eaten half a cantaloupe for breakfast.
Baby chicken Camilla's home
Going out to feed the chicken took me a little while.... When I dumped her food out in front of her she didn't immediately start pecking at it like she usually does. She didn't even move, and normally she's very excited for breakfast.
It looked to me like she COULDN'T move, and I started to freak out a little bit. I went back inside in tears and told Trip that I thought she was dying.
I started to regret saving her when she was a day old - three months ago now. Maybe I should have just let nature run it's course... I'm not a veterinarian.... Hell, I'm not even a farmer, what do I know about chickens?
All I know is that I wanted to help.... and I don't know if I did or not.
Is it better that she's alive - crippled and living totally secluded from the other chickens, or would she be better off dead?
I'm still having a really hard time with these questions.
Trip suggested that we let Robert "take care of her." Not knowing what else to do... I relented and went to go say goodbye while he talked to Robert about the situation.
When I got out there and knelt down in front of her door, Camilla - bless her little heart - came gimping over to me and managed to hoist herself up onto my lap.
I sat out there petting her for a good 20 minutes, then sat her back down in front of her food and watched her start eating.
When Trip came over to see what was up, I told him to call off the executioner.
The chicken might die soon.... but today is not the day.