The first (and currently only) chicken I have ever owned in any sense was a Rhode Island Red, named Lucky because I managed to save him as a small chick when he escaped the coop his mother was in and decided it would be fun to try and grab my cousin's Brittney Spaniel's tail. Needless to say, the little guy was lucky he managed to escape the two dogs.
He grew up into a fine little rooster, and actually managed to become the second in command of the flock, and would some times perch on my shoulder whenever I went over there.
Sadly though, he was a bit too good of a flyer, and managed to clear the top of the run several times in order to antagonize the same two dogs. One day, it ended up not going well for him, since the top-bird had injured him earlier in a fight over a hen.
One heck of a bird, still.