Is it Pollo, Galinha, Huhn, Kylling, Kyckling or Poulet? I know for a fact it would be delicious and that I am not allowed to eat the chicken. Yes, chicken at least I think it is a chicken. It is definitely a girl. It laid an egg to prove it. My first thought when I saw the egg was awesome a pupu before the main course this is my kind of chick-en!
I know you are wondering, just exactly how did we come by such an odd patient? Well my friends that is one turkey of a tail. You see a very nice lady came in carrying a box the other day, she said she had found a broken bird and thought it better see a vet. When my mom asked what kind of a bird it was, the nice lady replied, “well I believe it is a chicken”. Did someone say dinner? I have heard of pizza delivery, but chicken delivery wow!!! I am not surprised we are a first class establishment why wouldn’t we get our chicken delivered fresh daily. I was so excited about having chicken for dinner, I was already dreaming of how we could cook it. Let see BBQ, no breaded maybe... then I heard mom say to the lady “let me take it in the back and show it to the vet so we can see how to help you”. What? Wait! I will eat it just like that. Mom left carrying my dinner and it didn’t sound like chicken was going to be on the menu.
When mom came back up she told the women that my dad said the leg was badly fractured and would need a splint, either that, or we could help it go to sleep. My dad thought it had very good chance of healing and my mom was so excited about the chicken that some how we ended up with a new pet and my dad ended up setting a fracture. I ended up watching my mom nurse dinner, I mean the chicken, during the rest of the afternoon. Dad consulted with our resident bird lady and started it on medications for pain and since it was an open fracture they made sure to start it on antibiotics. I started to chase my tail since my mind could not believe that my mom wanted to keep this chicken and get it healthy enough to find it a forever home. It doesn’t need a home you crazy women, it needs a plate and a little salt and pepper.
I think this is where I should tell you a little something I have eluded to on more then one occasion. I am going to come right out and say it, MOM, YOUR A NUT!!! I love you, but really this is a new one even for you. The icing on the cake tonight was when the bird mom is calling Poulet (french for chicken) laid an egg. My sister was doing a little jig and my brother was taking a photo of the egg like it was a newborn baby. I must confess, I feel somewhat guilty, but I was hoping in all the fuss, it would fall out of the cage and I could help clean it off the floor. I know, I know but I am a dog, a reasonable one, but a dog none-the-less. Ok a little more maybe, I can type. You know what I mean, right?
Well it seems that we are now the proud owners of a chicken. My dad got it all set up for pain medications and a feeding schedule to help it heal quickly. My brother Jenner got an upstairs flat mate and me, I got one cup of sensitive skin dry dog food in a ceramic bowl for dinner. I protested, and just licked the floor to show my family that this was not “chicken ala king” and I was not happy. Then my stomach growled loud enough to scare me, so ate my food despite my disappointment. I also made a decision I will be enlisting the help of Queso, Salsa, Jenner and Rome in my great chicken caper.....Are you ready boys? Let the chicken hunting begin. ~RUFF
