The prolapse had just gotten too bad and her body had started to shut down yesterday afternoon.
I knew that this was coming, heck, I even prayed for her to peacefully pass last night...but it’s never easy.
She passed away in our home, in a warm, quiet room, the same room she spent her first days and weeks in as a little chick.
The same room where I made my first “bond” with a chicken.
My sweet Lemonhead.
I’ll never forget you always jumping up on my arm as a baby every time I opened up your brooder box.
All the other girls would scurry away, but not you.
“Pick me up! Pick me up!” you seemed to say.
And so I did.
I did every day.
You’d fall asleep in my lap in the sunshine and nestle in close on cold days.
You’d jump up on my back and sit on my shoulder.
My sweet girl.
You were always right there.
I had no shame in telling everyone you were my favorite.
I’d point you out and say, “See that little black one? That’s my Lemon. She’s my favorite.”
We knew something was wrong with your little body as soon as you started to try to lay eggs.
Always paper thin, sometimes more like sandpaper than an eggshell.
The last one you laid was in the middle of the yard. I remember being a little surprised but you never did things normally so it wasn’t too alarming.
A few days later I saw your little prolapse and we tried and tried and we tried so hard to help.
Your little body just wasn’t meant to lay eggs and it couldn’t repair itself this time.
I never cared about your eggs.
I don’t eat eggs.
I care about you.
My sweet, sweet Lemonhead.
I am so sorry we couldn’t save you.
I hope you know you were loved and so very special.
I know Pez will be so happy to see your sweet face, but I will be missing it so.
... so sorry for you...
