It has been an emotional weekend at our house… On Saturday my girls discovered our beloved hens were killed by raccoons. These birds were with us for 5 & 6 years, long past their egg bearing years. They were feathered pets, playing chasey games with the girls, letting themselves be picked up and carried around, and would come keep me company in the garden for hours at a time. I’m not angry at the raccoons, they need to eat too, but we are so sad at the loss of Portia and Juliet. And I get ill when I think that their last moments were full of pain and fear… The inside of the hen house was macabre: covered in blood and an explosion of feathers. So we had a funeral for their grizzly pile of parts.
The following day I thought my eldest daughter went missing. She was upstairs with me while I was doing some school work. But when I went to see how she was doing I couldn’t find her anywhere. Soon I was running through the house in a blind panick screaming her name. Then around the yard. Then up and down the street. By the time I finally got ahold of hubs on his crappy reception cell phone I was utterly hysterical. Of course my mind went instantly to cougars or some pervert in a pedia-van… Turns out she had hopped into her daddy’s Jeep, but no one told me.
This is exactly how I looked as soon as it was established that she was safe with her dad. It was well before 11am on Sunday.
In the span of one weekend, we lost our beloved feathered friends and I went through the terror of losing my daughter. And people without kids don’t understand why we drink so much? Just you wait my childless friends, just you wait.