Seafoodpunch

I’ve had a lot of pets over the years, but none left more of a mark than a very special chicken, known affectionately as “Salmonella” or “Chicken”.

Salmonella came to me in a small cardboard box. I can’t say I was too pleased when I opened up this supposed gift to find a shivering fluffball squatting in a pile of its own poop.

I didn’t even know what to expect! My friend had just told me that “there was a chick he wanted to introduce me to” and showed up at my door with this box minutes later.

HAR! GOOD ONE!

Thankfully, baby chicken poop smells like cornbread so it wasn’t completely unbearable living with poultry.

Unfortunately, little Salmonella grew at an alarming rate. A heat lamp and teddy bear shoved in an IKEA drawer worked at first-and there is nothing cuter than a chick squeezing her head through a teddy bear’s arms just to snuggle up-but Chicken outgrew her home within a few weeks.

Not only that, but I had to drag my pocket pet all over the place because without a warm hand or pocket to sit in, Salmonella would hop out of her drawer, flop onto the carpet 5 feet below, and proceed to trip around the apartment chirping like a fiend until someone picked up the little shit.

Bringing a chicken on all your errands might work for SOME people, but I’m still trying to convince everyone that I’m not insane.

Salmonella grew up to become a cute, attention whore of a bird: This chicken would strut around the backyard gurgling and squawking for attention until someone…ANYONE…either fed her or stood around while Chickie scratched around for bugs.

I attempted buying another chicken to make Salmonella’s life less miserable, but it turned into a disaster.

Chicken #2 (a.k.a  Pugly) was an abomination of nature: Half Silkie and half Brahman, Pugly looked like a mutated hairball with a black beak and a bright, red brain protruding from his forehead.

Even though Pugly lived up to his name in looks, he completely shunned Salmonella, and ended up falling in love with one of the gardening shoes I kept on the porch. (Salmonella had the most gorgeous nuggets around…so this was inexplicable behavior on Pugly’s part.)

The last straw was when Pugly fiercely attacked Salmonella for getting a little too close to his Shoe-toy. It didn’t help that this feathered perversion turned out to be a rooster. He came with an attitude and a built in alarm set to 6am.

Pugly was promptly returned to his previous home.

It was hard giving my Salmonella away when I moved to an apartment complex that preferred to keep their property Chicken-free.  Having a chicken as a pet makes for a great conversation piece. People immediately open up…and I learned a lot from the bird.

For example, I never knew that chickens have an affinity for turkey sandwiches. (I’m going to hell.)

Nor did I know that chicken will float on water completely oblivious to the world… after accidentally jumping in a full bathtub.

And I’m still amazed at all the sounds that came out of that tiny bird’s beak during the 5 years that I took care of the thing. Chickens have a special squawk for different types of predators…so I always knew when the neighbor’s cat was there for a visit, or when a hawk was circling overhead.

A chicken can despise flip flops.

Chickens love creating music.

Yep…chickens can teach us all a thing or two.

Appreciate those eggs!!!

I’m surprised at how many people knocked on my door wondering what happened to the incessant chicken noises that they’d gotten so accustomed to.  I found out later that Salmonella habitually snuck out of the yard and ran around the property for 8 hours while I was at work- she waddled around greeting neighbors, getting fed, hanging out with the pigeons-and the neighbors just threw her back over the fence before I got home. Everyone knew where the chicken lived.

We all felt at a loss without Salmonella in our lives and decided to have a bbq to make up for it.

The chicken, on the other hand, probably forgot about me as soon as the new owner let her sit on the couch and watch TV with the family.