EVERYONE STAY CALM!
Never mind. FREAK OUT!
(I’m talking to you, Sarah.)
I finally got pictures of the puppies after bugging the breeder who stated very clearly DO NOT BUG ME FOR PICTURES but it turns out that she posted photos deep within the website (three clicks) that Sideboob had to suss out. How was I supposed to know?!
BUT I HAVE PICTURES!
He’s one of those little love nuggets. Despite counsel to the contrary, I have decided to name him Chief. The boys like the name and I’m thinking of it as an homage to a wonderful orange Manx that made my ex-husband very happy for many years. What’s so bad about that?
I got the okay to name the dog Chief from Sideboob and Kimber on our hike up Green Mountain today. Since I know them better than the gym friend who said I couldn’t do it, I’m going with their decision.
We’ve hiked twice in as many weeks and have plans to go next week so I guess this makes us a thing.
I’M PART OF A HIKING GROUP! WOOT!
Sideboob started a shared album called Dirty Hikes because oh my god the conversations we have. Sideboob is usually out front and sees people coming in time to hiss at us to keep it down.
It’s pretty much sex and politics with almost zero transitions or warnings. At maximum volume because I’m a loud person.
Kimber unearthed the summit log and tossed it out, “So who wants to draw a penis in this thing?”
I responded, “Me!” with zero hesitation. It’s good to be among my people.
Both Kimber and I have had children which puts us on a whole other level of disinhibition than Sideboob, but she’ll get there.
It was the perfect day for a hike. It was cool (but not cold) overcast (but not grey) and not busy at all. I love Green Mountain, I can’t believe I haven’t hiked it in over 20 years. I’ll be back with my pole people for sure.
In other news, my neighbor is building a solar carport to power is Tesla (welcome to Boulder) which means construction near the coop co-op. He is worried that it would stress out the working girls who are already stressed due to poor flock dynamics and since they are two years-old, why not turn the flock over?
It seems that matters of acquiring, dispatching, and doctoring chickens fall under my jurisdiction so I put them up on Craigslist to see if anyone wanted them before I had to invoke the nuclear option.
Thankfully we had a taker.
This lovely lady had a farm in Mexico and now has a couple acres nearby and was keen to have chickens again. She was so sweet and her dog is adorable.
I separated the henpeckers from the henpecked in hopes that the behavior will cease.
I also put Daisy up on CL because one rooster is too many. Is there a word for too, too many?
I was pretty stoked when someone answered my ad; he seemed like an articulate and decent enough person.
But then again, what’s with the what do you feed him question? Chicken feed, duh. Suspicious.
The guy shows up in a ZZ Top beard …
… and knuckle tattoos that say WERE and WOLF on his respective hands. Hm. The conversation did not inspire me.
Me: So what do you think?
ZZ Top: Yeah, looks great.
Me: Do you have something to put him in? Like a cat carrier?
ZZ Top: So that’s the thing … I was an idiot and wrecked my car so now I have to ride the Scooter of Shame from work.
Me: Okaaay. I don’t think you should attempt to take him anywhere on scooter.
ZZ Top: But I have a friend who has a car, I could get him to drive me. Can I take a picture of the rooster? He’s not gonna believe it.
Me: (Sensing this was just some kind of stupid dare) Do you know anything about chickens? Like, have you done this before?
ZZ Top: No but I’ve always wanted one.
Me: Do you have a coop? He’s gonna need a coop or else he will be killed immediately by a raccoon.
ZZ Top: I think I’ve got one somewhere. I’ll look around,
Me: (WTF? Who has a spare coop just lying around?) Chickens are social creatures, he’s going to need friends.
ZZ Top: I’m thinking of moving to New Mexico in a couple of months and I might get more then.
Me: Why don’t you figure some stuff out and get back to me.
ZZ Top: Yeah, okay. I’ll do that.
Did I mention that he was wearing a DIV6 Millworks t-shirt? DIV6 happens to be owned by a good friend of mine that I just happened to have dinner with just minutes later. I described the tattoos.
“Oh my god! Did he have a ZZ Top beard and stroke it a lot?! Yeah, that’s Harshburger (or something). You should totally give him that chicken. They can live in his trailer in Longmont together. I guess he gave up on getting a kitten.”
Jason: “Did you say that it was a rooster?”
Me: “I said it was a cockerel.”
Jason: (Snorting) There’s the problem. He probably didn’t know it was a bird.
Me: Maybe Daisy could be your shop rooster. That would be okay with me.
This guy lives in a trailer? Not that living in a trailer is incompatible with having chickens (heck, maybe it’s a prerequisite) but it sounded like he expected Daisy to be an indoor rooster.
Apparently he doesn’t know shit about roosters because they are mean as hell which makes them crappy pets unless you enjoy having a pet that screams at you all hours of the day and night, shits everywhere and attacks you with its talons.
I guess I’m a rooster farmer now.
On a lighter note, the neighbor girls are in the habit of letting themselves into my house to rough up Bates.
Nothing brings me more pleasure than seeing him getting dragged around, he suffers magnificently and patiently.
Unlike That Fucking Cat. She’s so happy that Scratchy is back that she brought home three mice other night.
I swear she is the most worthless cat. Cats are supposed to catch the mice inside and bring them outside. Or eat them. They aren’t supposed to release LIVE MICE in my son’s bed!
The first mouse was injured so Itchy was able to catch it and bring it outside. The second mouse bit him (it was dark in his room so he didn’t see it when he reached out for TFC) and he screamed bloody murder. Who knows where the mouse went. Then she brought in another mouse which also got away.
Maybe a rooster would be a better pet than her.