The Easter Chicken

I've just realised that since the Chicken Who Came To Stay moved in last Easter, she's been part of our predominantly feline family for almost a year now. This forceful, feathered character very quickly went from lurking about on the periphery to moving right on in and making demands for food from me and respect from the cats. And it's not as if she's fearless with all cats. She always skedaddles for the big tabby who drops by once a day to sniff (not inhale) from the catnip pot. She's just supremely confident that she can handle my tribe. Which she can and does. Which says something, possibly unflattering to feline sensibilities, about Cooper and the girls.

I've tried to name our fowlish gatecrasher a few times, but she is so very much her own chicken that none of my quaint/cute/learned/pop culture appellations have stuck, so unless she learns to communicate her true identity to me, I think it's safe to say that this stroppy little nutcase of a bantam will henceforth and forever simply remain the Chook.