The animals in my story were real. The conversations were made up, but I tried to capture their personalities. I did a great disservice to our dog, however, as you shall see.

The young rooster was named Robert after our own Robert Cooke. He really was hatched in a school. He really did get popped into a box of kittens for warmth. He really did have species-confusion issues.

He especially liked to cuddle my legs. If I left the door open for air on a nice day, I might trip over him in the kitchen. He followed me everywhere -- well, except when he cuddled his cat or perched on Mike Mule or followed the old rooster. He showed no interest in hens, and he never crowed. He never understood the concept of roosting off of the ground in the barn. He had been raised in a box of kittens and preferred to sleep cuddled up to someone warm. I would have to find him in the dark and lift him to the roost.

Last night I worked until very late and fell into bed around midnight. Edna Goat (Leather Bags) wouldn't let me sleep with her bawling. Around 1 am I went to the barn and found her stuck in some wire. All of the animals were gathered around her. I swear they looked like they were trying to help her.

She was freed. Everyone insisted on a midnight snack. Mike Mule specifically pointed out that the water trough was bone dry, so I filled it by using the handpump and carrying the water in buckets. ( I do not recommend a return to pre-WWI living standards.)

I didn't see Robert. I looked for him, but I was tired. Meanwhile the dog was alerting in a very serious way in an area close to the barn (and my bod). I figured Robert was ok and went back to bed.

The dog was guarding Robert's mangled body when I got up this morning. I don't know what got him, but the dog didn't do it. She was clearly distressed. She really is much nicer than I portrayed her.

On a world scale, Robert Rooster's life was less than insignificant. His normal life expectancy was measured in weeks at the factory where his egg was produced. By fate he ended up in a classroom and then on to our house, where he lived a much longer and much odder life.

I miss him. I was working on another short story featuring Robert, but I don't feel like finishing it.

-- helen (me@g.ain), January 28, 2001

Answers

Aww, poor Robert. May he rest happily in Rooster heaven, chasing hens and doing what Roosters do for recreation...Amen.

-- kritter (kritter@adelphia.net), January 28, 2001.

I'm sorry ((((((((((Helen))))))))))

-- (privacy@please.com), January 28, 2001.

My brother-in law had a rooster that played soccer with his dogs and various children..would like links to previous stories if possible..

-- justa ponderin (about past stories c@n.you repost), January 28, 2001.

Dearest Helen, it sounds like he had a special place in your heart. He will always live there. Hugs to ya hon....

-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), January 28, 2001.

(((Helen))): I'm sorry about Robert. Maybe now is just not the right time for finishing the story - but that time may come in the future. Hang in there.

-- Rob Michaels (thesonofdust@yahoo.com), January 28, 2001.

Helen,

So sorry to hear about Robert. Only those of us who have raised poultry understand becoming attached to one or more of those critters. We started raising some chickens because I figured that we wouldn't get personally attached to any of them. We ended up with a retirement community for old hens because I couldn't bring myself to butcher them. (Who's this in the chicken and noodles?) Those last eggs must have cost over a dollar apiece.

-- Gene (ekbaker@essex1.com), January 28, 2001.

Thank you everyone. It seems somehow indelicate and ridiculous to cry over a chicken ... but isn't that what FRL is all about? Being indelicate and ridiculous? :)

-- helen (b@w.ling), January 28, 2001.

But....but....but....but....but....

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), January 29, 2001.

Cluck...cluck....cluck......maybe?

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), January 29, 2001.

Well, Mr. Cooke, I shouldn't be naming animals after people. It confused the neighbors when I called Robert's name at dinner time. >:)

-- helen (sniffles@midnight.continue), January 29, 2001.

((((Helen))))

May your next rooster live a yet longer and happier life!

And if you ever get a goose, well, Tricia is a very good goose name! You can confuse all your neighbors even more by refering to your Canuckian goose >;)

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), January 29, 2001.

Therefore, the goose is hereby named Tricia!

-- helen (sniffling@bit.still), January 30, 2001.

"Therefore, the goose is named "Tricia" .... ?

A couple of points here.

1. We "were" takling about roosters, one such rooster I (at least) appear to be attached to, or related two at least. Not geeses. Or guesses. 8<)

2. There were only one goose, not four, being named Tricia, so the phrase perhaps should be "Thereone, the goose is named tricia."

3. But since the goose was up there, not down here (with respect to the reader's position at least), even that should (more precisely) should be "Hereone, the goose is named Tricia."

4. But since Tricia is a true heroine, not a hereone (nor a "there one" - since there are now two Tricia's) it should become "Hereby, the goose is named Tricia."

5. Except that there are two Tricia's (once the goose becomes "Tricia") implies that the phrase should be "Herebi, the goose is named Tricia."

6. We are now at the point of avoiding confusion with Disnay's VW bug Herbie.....

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), January 31, 2001.

I just love illogic, logically presented, or gifted or was that Robert who was gifted?...

-- Tricia the Canuckian goose :-) (jayles@telusplanet.net), February 01, 2001.

Sorry Helen. It's amazing how attached we become to animals sometimes. Some of the best, bravest and most noble folks I've ever known have been critters. Katy-the-corgi is now 13 years old and getting grey around the muzzle (like me), but she still dances when she sees me, and naturally, my heart just joins in.

But now, about this naming of the goose, "Tricia" - FOWL, fowl, I say! I mean, what does that leave to name after your's truly. The mule already has a name, and I daresay, your kids are probably securely labled by now. The old goat's already called Edna, and I'm sure all your other various barn yard denizens are known by various melodic, ingenious, and original monikers, like "Dog", or "Pig".

I mean, who's left to name "LON"? HUH? A frog, maybe, or some smelly old possum? Maybe a runt piglet? A pesky garden mole?

It's just not fair! Trish and Robert always get all the good stuff, and me 'an Gene never get nothin'! Not fair, I tell you! Not fair!

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-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), February 03, 2001.

(Pssst... Hey Helen! Got a turkey? I got the perfect name!) ;-)

-- (not@tellin.ya), February 03, 2001.

LOL

LOL!!

LOL!!!!!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), February 05, 2001.

Lon, I have a duck named Lon. :)

Guys, got problems here. Got no internet at home, but have access to yahoo a couple of times per week. :)

-- helen (m_r_o_s_m_r@yahoo.com), February 13, 2001.

Lon .... It appears she has a duck named Lon and a problem.

What's the problem's name?

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), February 14, 2001.

that's funny, my wife has a problem named Lon. But no duck.

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-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), February 14, 2001.

Thanks you all for a good laugh out loud this morning. And hugs to all my good pals here. Happy valentines day to all.

-- (sis@home.zzz), February 14, 2001.