Sunday, July 17, 2016

Head Count, Head Case

Well, I finally got up the courage and felt strong enough to go out and do a head count of my chickens.
My heart is just broken, y'all.
Last week at this time I had seventeen chickens.
Now I have nine.
Mick, Butterscotch, Chi-Chi, Cha-Cha, Trixie, Camellia, little Dearie, little Violet, and one barred rock are still alive.
Nicey is dead. Lisa Marie is dead. All three of the little red chicks that my neighbor gave me as hatchlings are dead. Two of the barred rocks. Little Blossom. I have not actually seen the bodies of Lisa Marie or two of the little red chicks. But neither of my two next-door neighbors have seen them and I think they must be gone.
And the more I think about that dog, the more filled with anger I am. I am so tempted to call animal control because they will come and put down a dog who kills for sport. At least, that's what I've heard. But you know- here we are in Lloyd and I absolutely hate to start a neighbor feud. It ain't worth it. Although this neighbor and his killer dog and his hog dogs- well.

I just don't know.

I'm feeling better but thank god for Ibuprofen. I honestly think I have some sort of chronic illness that flares when I get a virus. My large muscles and joints just scream and they were screaming the night before I actually got sick. I read an article yesterday about tick borne illness and the new discoveries they are making about it and although Mr. Moon and I have both tested negative for Lyme, as they now know, that test just is not accurate and they're also just beginning to understand how many symptoms can be caused by these almost undetectable bacteria. Treatment is still very, very experimental and often not extremely effective. I think of Mr. Moon's neurological stuff that none of the tests showed any reason for at all. I think of my constant joint and muscle pain. I think of the many, many ticks we've taken off our bodies without a thought except for annoyance. That thing about Kris Kristofferson's dementia and then his diagnosis of Lyme, treatment, and recovery? True. Not a rumor. True.
Well, at least according to the doctor in that article.

So. This is a cheerful post, isn't it?

I dreamed about August yesterday during one of my naps. He was surrounded by blues and greens and teals like the colors of the sea in Cozumel and my heart almost burst with happiness. And in three days we'll be able to see him, surrounded not by the colors of the Caribbean but the greens of Asheville, a sort of true beauty in itself. The missing of him is visceral and almost blocks my missing of his mother, my baby. But then, in writing those words, I cry.

Oh well. I am crying about everything today.
I've eaten a pancake and counted my chickens and now I think I'll actually do some ironing. I need to water my porch plants and I can certainly manage that as well. I need to think about eating something that's good for me. For some reason, the only things I've been craving are not. Good for me, that is.
I yearned for some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and that's what I ate yesterday and it tasted wonderful but my stomach wasn't exactly thrilled. Will I ever eat a salad again? At least the pancake had peaches and bananas and sweet potato in it.
I think I'll make the bed, tuck the sheets in and spread the quilt over it as a symbol, a sign of healing. I have on actual clothing, albeit what I call actual clothing which may not be actual clothing befitting a woman eleven days shy of her sixty-second birthday.

Tomorrow the NRC begins and I am scared and terrified and I want to smack the shit out of everyone who can't bring themselves to vote for Hillary because they were so invested in Bernie. WHAT ARE THEY THINKING? Not voting is a vote for that, that, THAT...I can't think of a word or a string of words to express how I feel about him and I don't want to say his name.
It would be so funny except that it's not funny, not funny at all and the whole world is watching.

Sunday. Here we are again.

I'm going to go make wrinkled things smooth. And that's about all I can do.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Ms Moon, I feel the same way about wanting to smack the shit out of Bernie supporters who refuse to back Hillary now that he's out of the race. Am I a huge fan of Hillary's? Certainly not, but the alternative is too terrible to contemplate.

    And stay away from the news today...more horror is erupting in Baton Rouge right now. It's just all too much.

  2. In Arizona they don't put down a dog because he kills. Our neighbor dog killed our dog ...on our property...right in front of me.We called the animal control and pressed charges (because it was the third time that dog had attacked our dog and we had never called before and we thought the next time it could be a child). Believe was a learning experience. Would I do it again...maybe. The dog actually has to bite a person and then maybe the animal control might do something...At least your neighbor apologized ...ours never did.

  3. i can take a road trip straight down 75 and talk with your neighbor at any time after tuesday. i keep thinking of the part in to kill a mocking bird when atticus drops the rabid dog. sometimes we have to end it when other people do not have the courage to make those decisions.

    my heart breaks for you and your beloved chickens.


  4. Oh, I can't help but shed tears and I never knew them personally or heard them sing. A massacre on such innocents. Love from afar(HUGS)LN

  5. I came here for your words of wisdom today as there has been more killing--more and more anger and hatred erupting in death.

    I am so sad about the chickens, but the way of animals is more explainable to me than that of humans who kill because of anger.

    It feels all too much at the moment.

  6. my heart aches for you over the loss of almost half of your flock, it truly does. Many reasons to feel broken hearted lately in general. In the big world we can't do much, but in your own yard? Really? Your neighbor needs to get *the* ultimatum, pronto. Plain and simple. Glad your stomachy thing is subsiding
    Susan M

  7. OH no, is am so sad about Mick and the others too! That neighbor needs to control the dog or give him to someone that can keep it behind a fence. I hope the dog is gone from your area soon, and the neighbor too. Gail

  8. Oh thank goodness, I went back and reread your post. I am still sad, but I thought the dog got Mick. Gail

  9. How are Owen and Gibson handling the news of the chickens?

  10. DAMN, it is not the dog it is the owners of the dog that you must have fined or at least reported. Dogs just be dogs. I came home to eight baby piglets in various stages of broken and dead, the Mama squealing in grief and probably feeling inadequate unable to save her babies from our two dogs that got loose, good dogs really, just - movement, excitement , nature took over. Heartbreaking, yes.

  11. I'm so sorry to hear about the chicken deaths , bloody dog !!!! Xxxx

  12. Oh, no, I'm so sorry. Too awful. The dog has to go. I don't even know what to suggest - of course a feud is no good, but apologies don't bring chickens back, and they clearly can't keep him in. Dogs get out. Awful.

  13. I'm with you on the smacking the shit thing. And I am so sorry about your chickens and that dang dog. Sickening. All of it.

  14. Fortunately most of my Bernie friends seem to have embraced reality and Hillary as well. At least, I'm not seeing a lot of anti-Hillary smack on Facebook from the left. (I am, however, seeing it from the right -- but that will never change.)

    I would call animal control and report the dog. There ought to be a record of these attacks, and perhaps it will force your neighbor to strengthen his fences (assuming he has fences) and keep his dog under control. Or force him to get rid of the dog, which may be the best solution for all involved -- including the dog. And as you know, I'm a dog lover, so I don't say that lightly.

  15. Is there a chance that something else got some of those chickens? A hawk? An eagle? Maybe they're not all dog fatalities after all. Just thinking...


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