Where I come in my back door there's a small dresser with a few things on top of it. It's just a little shoe closet from Ikea but it's handy for putting things down on. On top of it there's always a small lamp, a pair of mittens or gardening gloves, depending on the season, and a bowl filled with black oil sunflower seeds for the chickens. Every time I go out the back door, I grab a handful and throw them into the chicken run.
The last week of December, just before Christmas I knew something wasn't right with Cuddles when she refused to eat them. I didn't get too upset because I'd nursed this little chicken back from the brink more than once. More than twice. So many times in fact that I'd stopped getting frantic when I saw she was sick because I knew with some antibiotics and syringe feeding for a few days she'd get better .
The last week in December, Cuddles didn't get better.
I got her 5 years ago from a long gone boyfriend who decided to surprise me with a box full of day old chicks on Easter morning. Obviously he isn't gone because of his inferior present buying skills. He was astonishingly good in that department. He even had the foresight to supply me with the one thing that would get me through his walking out the door one day. Cuddles.
She was the second smallest chicken in the box of 6 chicks, and even when she was fully grown she was still a lot smaller than the other chickens. I don't know how much experience you have with chicks but they're about as cute a thing as God ever made if you believe in that sort of thing. If not, ... she was as cute a thing as Disney could ever make.
Well this one chicken, the second smallest one as I said, took it upon herself to love me like her mama. She followed me around, clucked to be picked up and sat quietly and contentedly on my lap for as long as I could stand to sit there knowing there were about a billion things to be done around the house.
So when the fella left, she's what saved me. Not a therapist, not pills, not crying. Cuddles. A little brown chicken.
I sat for hours with her relaxed in my lap, her wing stretched down so I could rub the feathers under there. She'd settle in letting her eyes close, perfectly happy to keep me company until I decided it was time to tackle the world again.
I'd like to say it's because I'm special. Because I have some sort of other worldly chicken intuition but the truth is, it was her. That little chicken liked everyone. She settled into the tiny laps of kids from around the neighbourhood happily letting them inspect every inch of her, usually the first real livestock they'd ever been close to. She sat in the lap of a neighbour whose husband had just died and made her laugh.
She wasn't named Cuddles for nothin'.
Closing the door to the cold behind us, I laid Cuddles down in the makeshift coop I'd created for her in my mudroom. She wasn't well. She'd been living in the mudroom for 3 days so I could constantly check on her and keep her body temperature up. I wondered if she wouldn't be happier inside the regular coop with her friends, so that afternoon I had placed her back outside with them. It was cold that night and she didn't have the energy to even jump up on her roost so I brought her back in.
I put a small heater in the mudroom, covered the floor with towels to warm it up a bit and made a little nesting box out of some straw and an old wood butter box. I got her all fed and warmed up then gave her another syringe of antibiotics. I tucked a bit more straw into her nesting box, put Cuddles inside, gave her a little kiss on the head and told her it was O.K. She could go.
I knew when I woke up she'd be gone.
I didn't sleep most of the night and when I finally gave up and came padding downstairs at around 6 in the morning she lifted her head up and looked right at me.
I'll take this moment to confess that I hoped all night long that Cuddles would die. That I'd wake up and it would be over. My stress, her misery ... all of it. You can judge me if you want but I could not, under any circumstances kill her myself. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't have chopped her head off any more than I could have chopped my own mother's head off.
I picked Cuddles up, gave her a bit of food and some water which she ate on her own, and brought her into the living room with me where I sat with her for the morning.
At 12:30 that afternoon I called a local vet. I may not have been able to do it, but it had to be done. I scheduled an appointment to have her euthanized.
I was to bring her in at 6:00 p.m. that Friday night just as the vet's office was closing.
These had been really tiring, stressful days filled with trying to keep her alive, Christmas planning and the general freak show that is the holiday season. When I called the vet's office at 5 o'clock to make sure the vet who was putting Cuddles down was back from his house calls the receptionist (who I'd had really unfortunate dealings with earlier in the day) said, Oh No. He's not here. I don't think he's coming back.
I explained that I had an appointment to have my pet put down. He was coming back to the office especially for me. She sympathetically said "I dunno. I don't think he's coming back though. Maybe he can see you on Monday.". I very unpolitely asked if maybe she could CALL THE MAN AND FIND OUT????
This particular receptionist didn't seem all that concerned that I had a dying animal in my lap and I'm not sure what her true vocation in life is but I can tell you right now it isn't being a receptionist at an animal hospital. I seriously doubt if she has the common sense to plant peanuts for a living.
At 10 minutes to 6 o'clock I finally called back when I never heard from the receptionist again. "Yeah, no he's not coming back, she said. You'll have to reschedule for Monday." I asked once again if she'd actually spoken to him and got some sort of non answer from her at which point I told her she was an idiot and hung up on her. I also swore. And I'd do it all over again. She was an idiot who made an already horrible situation almost unbearably worse.
It was Friday night at 6 o'clock. No other vet would even be open. And even if they were, finding a vet who would be willing to put a chicken down was never going to happen. Putting anything avian down is very different than a dog or cat. It's harder.
Cuddles was going to have to struggle on her own until Monday, looking up at me like I could do something about it, and me knowing I could ... but just didn't have it in me to do it.
Then it hit me. That vet that gave me a bit of advice about Cuddles before. He was actually a cat vet but he's a poultry judge who has chickens himself, and he worked part time at a Cat Clinic not far from where I live.
I looked up the number and called right away. The receptionist answered and told me yes, Dr. Camilleri was working that day but they were closed. I explained the situation to her. I blurted out everything about Cuddles and how I knew it seemed stupid because she was a chicken but she was a pet an she was suffering and another vet had just cancelled on me and I'd been trying to help her for days and she just needed help otherwise she'd be like this all weekend.
Then she said, You know what? Let me call you back in a minute.
And she did.
Dr. Camilleri told me to come up right away. He understood and he wouldn't go anywhere until I got there with Cuddles. I picked Cuddles up in her butter box and walked her out to the car. It was dark by now and everything is worse in the dark but I felt more relieved than I had in days.
With one act of selflessness, one act of kindness this man who I'd never met, turned my day completely around.
It took about 12 minutes to get to the clinic. I carried Cuddles inside, and walked her up to the reception desk, apologizing for looking like such a mess and for making them stay late. The receptionist couldn't have been nicer or more sympathetic.
Dr. Camilleri came out and said what a beautiful bird Cuddles was and examined her a bit. He felt here and there, looking for fluid build up and feeling her breastbone to see how thin she was. After looking at her he let me know I was doing the best thing for her.
We took her into the examination room and he looked at her a bit more while I held her. He explained what he was going to do and how putting a chicken to sleep is a bit trickier but he'd make sure it wasn't stressful for her. The Dr. took her out of the room to give her a sedative to keep her calm and get rid of any anxiety she would be feeling.
When he came back with her, Cuddle's eyelids were starting to close, the way they did when she relaxed into my lap.
Once she was close to being asleep Dr. Camilleri took a tiny needle and pierced her skin.
Not long after that Cuddles was gone.
I had Cuddles cremated and had the ashes returned to me in an urn. She's the first pet I've ever done that with.
The day I brought her ashes home I was cleaning up the mudroom a little bit. A good cleaning because it had snowed and there was mud in the mudroom of all things.
As I bent down to wipe under that little dresser with the bowl of sunflower seeds on it I found a single brown feather. A tiny, little downy feather from Cuddles' last night with me.
I picked it up, walked into the next room and tucked the feather into the ribbon that wraps around her urn. It sticks out just behind a minuscule little wood plaque that reads "Cuddles".
My little chicken.
Skylor
a fantastic vet and staff make all the difference when a pet needs medical help. my vet office is staffed with amazing people so I was getting far more aggravated reading about the idiot receptionist than one should but I'm sorry you had to go through that. They need to go work at an IT call center where idiocy is a requirement.
Alycea Horth
Thank you for writing this post. It certainly could not have been easy, but hopefully therapeutic. I had tears in my eyes reading it as I too have chickens, and ducks, the latter of which one has imprinted on me and is particularly special. They make such wonderful companions, and their antics can make you laugh out loud. It's lovely to read that someone else feels that way.
Wishing you well
from Pumpjack & Piddlewick
Gingersnappo
Beautiful picture, beautiful story. Yes, thank you for sharing, Karen. It sounds like Cuddles was very special.
Lori Hall
Well, I just bawled like a baby. That was a very beautifully written tribute. All animals should be so loved. You're a great mama Karen!
Erica
That was just SO sad to read, brought me to tears. Karen - thanks for sharing your life with us. We all loved Cuddles because of your awesome writing, great stories, and tenderness towards her. How heartbreaking.
Lise Cameron
Hi Karen . I was sobbing like a baby. What you and Cuddles had was precious, as I am certain that not too many hens have that kindness and love for a human. Something very special brought the two of you as close as you were. Your love for her probably kept her with you as long as she did . Being the smallest one gave her a harder life but you were always there to help he get back on her feet. Bless you for sharing her last moments with us...That picture of the two of you in the kitchen says it all..
Jillian
Karen,
I am so sorry for your loss. This was your best written post yet, under a most difficult and heartbreaking situation. The love you have for Cuddles was felt in every single word.
Cuddles loved you in life and even in death, left you a gift of her feather for remembrance and closure.
Lots of healing light being sent your way, Jillian
Sandy
Stupid balls of feathers or fur or whatever. They find a way of getting into our hearts and you were fortunate to have Cuddles with you, if only for 5 years.
And a big thumbs up to Dr. Camilleri and his staff, always makes things a little easier when you find people who care about what they do.
kkish
You made me cry. Also, I wish I lived in your town because right this minute it would feel so good to slap a certain veterinary receptionist. So good.
I'm so sorry about Cuddles.
Brooke
Oh, great. Bawling at work. This was lovely and reminds me of something from my childhood. I lived for several years on a non-working farm in then-rural Maryland. My dad commuted to the city each day, my mom stayed home and kept a wonderful house, and I had free rein through the fields and woods, exploring, building forts, fished for crawdads, bringing home wayward dogs, extra kittens, and, one day, a rooster. A friend who lived down the road gave him to me one day, and I walked home with him in my arms, stroking his downy white neck, relaxing myself as he started to doze, just like Cuddles. We had him for some months. Granted, he wasn't the most "pet-like" animal I ever had, but he never bothered anyone, so he lived on contentedly. Until one fateful day.
My grandmother, born and bred in the countryside of western Ireland, was living with us at the time, and was sitting on the front porch in the sun one day. The rooster decided that "up there" was a better place to be than "down there" on the ground scrabbling for bugs. So he flew up and tried to perch on her skinny forearm. It was not a smooth landing, and, in her panic, she must have flailed a bit and he, reacting, gouged a large chunk out of her already-meager flesh.
I never saw him again. But I still suspect, to this day, that Gran's chicken stew had a special secret dash of spite in it.
Karen
LOL! Oh dear. ~ karen!
BamaCarol
Thank you so much for sharing the life of Cuddles and now her death story. I am tearing up but angry at the first receptionist. She does not belong at that job! Cuddles was a special girl and she belonged with you Karen. You were able to appreciate her gifts and love like no one else. I love the idea of her leaving you feathers to let you know she is OK.
Gretchen Sexton
I have read many tributes, yours is up there with the best. I'm sad all over again. And then a spark of joy appears in feathers. I had tears running down my face at the end of your story, then (like a crazy person), after I pulled myself together, I went ahead and read all the comments. More tears. Which normally would not bother me, except I read your post first thing when I get to work! Seriously, thank you for sharing such a tender part of your heart.
Linda
So sorry for your great loss. My daughter has chickens and today she got her first egg! She loves those babies and would do just what you did for them. You are a good chicken mama.
Karen
The first EGG! That's such an exciting day. Honestly I can remember my first egg. In fact, I blew it out, painted it a bronze colour and keep it in an egg cup on my bookshelf! ~ karen
NinaMargoJune
As soon as I saw the title I grabbed a box of Kleenex. Such a touching post. Such an ordeal. Sniff.
MelissaM
Oh, Karen! What a lovely tribute. And what a magnificent vet and office. Now I go back to chopping onions this Friday morning. [sniff, sniff]
Ev Wilcox
Years ago I had a pet rat that I loved very much. Her name was "Minnie" and she had a great and loving personality. She spent a lot of time on my shoulders as I did chores, etc. My kids were used to unusual pets and they loved her too. I have asthma, so when a large tumor began growing on the side of her neck i freaked at the possibility that it would impinge on her ability to breathe. So one day on my lunch hour I took her to a local vet and had her put down. Truly, I know how you felt, and still feel. In 2008 we took the best dog ever to be put down, and we are still in mourning. Know that you did the right thing. I hope sharing this was cathartic for you. And, we can all celebrate a nice vet with a heart. Good for him and his staff, and good for you.
Barb
Karen, Thank you for writing this difficult, yet touching, tribute to Cuddles and letting us know what happened. Your previous blogs and adventures about her were so vivid that she also made her way into our hearts. Having to put to sleep a pet who is a member of the family is such a difficult thing, but it's also a final act of love for them. You treasured her from the time you two met until you parted ways and both of your lives were enriched forever.
Madeleine Whitfield
Have you written a book? Because you should. You had me in tears over my morning tea. You can bring the reader right into the situation, and now I feel that I knew Cuddles. I'm glad you have her still with you. Love is so hard, isn't it?
Madeleine
Marion
I am so sorry for your loss, Karen. It's always hard to make the decision to let a beloved pet go, but in the end it's always nice to know they are at peace. Cuddles lived a great life and I've enjoyed reading stories about her over the years. Thank you for sharing this one.
Barbara S.
Thanks for sharing your life with us Karen. Like others, I read about Cuddles with tears streaming down my face. Much love and healing to you and Cheez Whiz. I hope she is as strong as you are. Time heals many things but you'll always have Cuddles in your heart.