Today’s post is about my first pets. My sister and I each got a week old chick when I was 11. I fell in love with them straight away. I’d already decided a week before we got them that mine was going to be called Bubbles. Bubbles was the darker one. My sister couldn’t decide on a name and then considered Bieber after old mate Justin Bieber. She changed it to Nora thank God. They were tiny little balls of fluff, and we kept them in a cardboard box with their food and water and a light to keep them warm.

As they grew up they would go on adventures around the Sunroom, jumping on furniture, pooping on the floor. While they grew, my dad and I built a coop for them, and put it with an old chicken shed that came with the house. Every so often I’d take them for walks outside so they could get used to their new outdoor home. They reached their ugly, awkward teenage phase and we put them in the coop. Every day we’d let them wander the garden as they pleased and fed them treats and lots of cuddles. The bond became so strong that I thought of them as feathered dogs.

One day Bubbles wasn’t looking so flash. She was quiet and was nestled into a bush. I was stroking her and she stood up and out popped an egg. It was very traumatic for both of us I think. She’d laid her first egg and I was a very proud mother. In the summer we’d sit outside and the girls would come and sit on our laps and have a nap. They loved being in the sun’s rays and would lay on their side with their wing open. When I was 13 we got Dylan, our first greyhound, and I came home after school one day and had found that he’d bitten poor little Bubbles on her bum! I was sure she would die but we took her to the vet and gave her medications and she pulled through. Unfortunately, a few months later, she very suddenly fell ill. I was looking after some other chickens for friends at the time so I went to do that to take my mind off things. As I left I took one last look at Bubbles while dad and my sister looked after her. By the time I got back though, she had died.

We buried her in the garden and even Nora attended the funeral. There was a beautiful moment where we each put a flower in the grave and Nora walked around and some dirt with a flower on it fell in. She knew what was going on and was lost without her sister. I was lost without my best friend. Nora and I helped each other, but Nora was never the same. 1 year and 1 week later, Nora also died. Again, I wasn’t even there for it. I was in the UK and was returning home in 3 days. It wasn’t unexpected though, and it was nice to know she was back with Bubbles, but for that extra year we had that same connection that I had with Bubbles.

People often don’t think that chickens are very smart and have no personalities, but those chooks were better friends than both of my dogs put together (sorry Dylan and Maxie but you’re a disgrace to dogkind!). I miss them a lot but have two more lovely chickens to keep me company now. Don’t take your chooks for granted!

Larne