Well, I suppose I could have chickens. Just not chickens that are alive. I present to you my reasoning.
This is what I came home to today:
And, it kept going…
…down the hallway.
We have a long hallway.
It turned the corner.
Right past Callum’s crate.
Right up to the front door. To the culprit.
Callum is an equal opportunity feather destroyer. Boas. Toys. You name it. And, of course, chickens would be the ultimate feathered playmate.
So, there you have it. No chickens in our future. (Does he look a little sad to you above? Nah….)