Farewell Betty Chicken...
Betty's been poorly on and off for quite some months (as documented a little bit here).  I think it was something to do with her rather complicated egg laying mechanism getting old and the vets couldn't work out what exactly it was or how to fix it and Betty kept fixing it herself after a few weeks and being fine.

She's been looking very elderly for the last few weeks and spending a lot of time during the day sleeping in her poorly box in the conservatory and then her eating of her food slowed down and stopped again, so I knew when I left for London for Christmas she wasn't terribly healthy but I suppose I assumed she'd pull herself round again and be ok.  I did have a word with her before I left to say I was only going to be away for a few days and she'd better be there when I got back!

On Boxing Day I was on my way to visit my sister's boyfriend's family when I got a text from my aunt that just said something like 'How did mucking out the horses go then?  When are you back, I'm all mixed up with the days!' and I don't know why but I was all *Oh no, do you think something happened to Betty?*.  Mum said I was probably being paranoid and I should phone if I was that worried but I thought better to leave it until AFTER the visit because I think there's probably some social rule about turning up at a stranger's house in pieces, so I just texted back to say we were coming home Saturday and was everything ok,  then put my phone on silent.

When we got home there'd been no reply so I rang her and she was very cheery and we chatted for a bit about Christmas and she said she'd just seen my message so I was all *OH!  I thought something must have happened!* and then I asked if Betty was ok and there was a pause then she said 'Well no, actually.  I'm afraid she died' and I lost the ability to speak for a bit so Mum took the phone off me.

She was fine on Christmas Day, Mr. Next-Doors let her out on the morning and tucked her in at night and had a few words with her, but when he went to get her up on Boxing Day she didn't come out so he opened the eggport door and found her in the nesting box.  He did know she'd been poorly and I'd left my number and instructions on what to do if the worst happened.  He lifted her out and put her in the carry box I'd left in the conservatory and then he rang my aunt rather than me to ask what to do.  My aunt didn't want to tell me but I asked a direct question so she didn't want to lie.  I'm glad I knew though because I would have felt terribly guilty if I'd been having fun and being jolly when Betty had died.

Because of the timing of it and things I asked (well Mum asked because I still couldn't speak very clearly) if my aunt could ring the vets and see if they could take her in like they did with Elsie on Saturday morning because otherwise we'd have to keep walking past her in her box in the conservatory and that would have been dreadful and luckily my aunt is fab and was happy to do that, and the vets were open and able to take her in.

Coming home was a bit sombre and seeing the 'Happy Holidays' sign outside the eglu was REALLY hard.  I hadn't realised how often I thought about them through the day - everytime I look out of the back window I'm looking for her, or when I'm near the back door I keep thinking I'll pop out and have a chat, or when it gets dark I think I'll have to go and tuck her in etc.

So that's the end of me being a chicken owner.  For now anyway.  I definitely want to have them again at some point because they are so funny and lovely and full of personality and not at all what I thought chickens were before I had them.  For now though I'm going to sell the eglu and convert their run into a vegetable patch.  If I can get a couple of little quirky chicken ornaments to go in there, or a silly hen topiary I might do that.  It'll have to be something daft though.

I'm not going on holiday again.  First time I lose my job, next time I lose Betty.  Holidays are VASTLY OVERRATED tbh.