Monday, April 06, 2009
What kind of a farmer cries over a chicken?
Modonna's gone. I knew something was wrong when I went into the barn. All the other chickens came but not Madonna. She's the one who always comes right up for me to pick her up. She's the only one who eats from my hand. Madonna can't fly. I have to take care of her. I failed. I found her. Dead. Something had killed her. I am so sorry, Madonna.
I guess I'm not a real farmer. I can't stop crying.
I went out and sat with the sheep. They all came up to "offer their condolences". Seriously. They each walked up and let me pet them for a moment and then walked off. Except Dream. She stood by me and put her muzzle against my cheek. She let me wrap my arms around her neck and cry into her fleece. She stood by me until it was time for me to come into the house.
What will I ever do when I lose my Dreamer....?
I have to get ready for work now.