50 chicken eggs incubated. 48 chipped. 4 blonde, 10 brunette chicks hatched. 6 died first, then 6 more. 2 beat the odds. Named: Vim & Vigor.
Max wakes in his yard. Looks, cries. Barks desperately. They’re home – almost. Across the street at the neighbor’s without him. Selfless love.
I was firm. “They’ll be no more pets!” Until that grey flash of fur streaked cross the floor, curled up in my lap and made a liar out of me.
Jim’s at it again; angry, swearing, ruffling feathers. I know it’s his tree, he tells us all every morning. Just wish, once, he was in tune.