Chicken Sitter

In five decades, I have done some odd things for friendship, but yesterday did one of the oddest. As I was shutting down to leave the office, a friend called and said she needed a pet sitter. She had to go to the doctor herself and then had a vet appointment for her chicken Cassie too soon afterward to go home and get her. Since temperatures are in the nineties here in the Springs, she was afraid to leave Cassie in the car while she was in the doctor’s office, even with the windows open. So after leaving work, I drove to the doctor’s office, and met my friend. We found a shady spot in the parking lot, and I put Cassie (who was in a crate) outside next to the bole of the tree. I was pleased to see Cassie evidently inspecting her surroundings alertly, a lot less upset by the situation than I would have expected. She didn’t look like a sick chicken to me, but my friend said she hadn’t been eating normally.

My friend wasn’t in the office for very long, and was soon ready to take Cassie to the vet. (Evidently, finding a vet who treats chickens was a challenge in itself.) The vet examined Cassie, decided she was treatable, and prescribed an anti-biotic and Pepto-Bismol for an inflamed crop.