There was a close call, chicken-wise, last week. I invited a friend to lunch, and suggested that she bring her dog along to play with “Cloho”, as Chadd once dubbed Soho and Chloe. Victoria made an amazing lunch for us, and even baked an impossibly yummy type of French bread called gougeres, which reminds me why I want to plan a trip to France. Soon.
After lunch, we visited the chickens, purposefully leaving Bella, the visiting pup, to cool her fluffy heels on the other side of the property. I have read time and time again of good dogs gone bad around chickens, and wasn’t going to take any chances.
Unfortunately, I failed to notify everyone else at the house that day, and someone opened a fateful door while my friend and I were viewing Hope and Autumn on the nest in the coop.
Bella shot through the door and into the coop, laser-locked on Amelia, who was unsuspectingly loitering on the ground, hoping for treats. Since we’d kept the door to the pen closed for security, Amelia was trapped INSIDE and Bella was seconds away from a chicken dinner.
Most readers are familiar with my health limitations and know that on the very long list of things I cannot do, leaping and running would be at the very top. Yet I leaped and I ran, because I knew we had very little time before Amelia was toast, or at least chicken a la king ON toast…
Luckily, Alexandra was there and reached the pen before I did. She grabbed Bella in just the nick of time and all was well again in the Land of Chickens. But not in the land of sacrums and vertebrae. By the time I saw my physical therapist after the Memorial Day holiday, my pain levels had escalated up into “8” territory. Chronic pain sufferers learn to live by a 1-10 scale that is as close to objective as one can be about something as subjective as pain. On a good day, I’m at a 5 or 6, and I’m grateful for those days, which allow me to rise above the constant burning, throbbing knife-twists that slice through my lower back and hip. But on a bad day, the pain soars, almost always due to a rotated sacrum or lumbar vertebrae.
The ligaments that hold my upper and lower body together are damaged, and rotation can result from something as simple as bending or reaching. The consequence of leaping and running left me, in my pt’s words, “whacked”. And, unfortunately, he just left on a week-long vacation, which leaves me in a week-long pickle. If I go radio silent for the next several days, you’ll all know why. And, while I’m feeling very sorry for myself, I can report that Amelia is doing just fine. Bella, by the way, went home and had chicken treats for dinner – sans those pesky feathers…