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I made a date with the chicken man. Did I mention his place was waaaay out in the country? Over the county line, and past the road to Las Lomas and Elkhorn Slough. I went there. He did not keep the date. I wrote up the experience, drew a map, clipped the twelve dollars to the note, and told the neighbor I didn't think I could go back again because I have to haul Gloria around with me and it's a drag (because she has to pee every twenty minutes).
Tonight I get a hate letter, almost. She insists that I am responsible for her chicken, accuses me of negligence (I was not the one who put chickens into an urban yard, on a corner, with no fence: I in fact did everything I could to keep my dog inside), insists that I also owe her ten dollars for chicken medicine (not part of the original agreement, something that she tacked on later). Originally she said the chicken was four months old and now she says she took care of it for five months. She uses words like "minimal" and "at least" to hint that I should actually be giving her more than a chicken and this ten dollars she has come up with. She's "perturbed" and doesn't want to drive to Las Lomas anymore than I do.
I personally am quite finished with the chicken story. I have been responsible: it was I who approached her and offered to get her the chicken. I did what I could and when I got to my limit I gave her the money and a correct map to the chicken place (we'll recall that when she passed the phone number on to me she described its location as being about ten miles closer to Santa Cruz than it is -- and also gave me an incorrect phone number for herself).
The only step left is for me to write this up for her and give her the twelve bucks back. I've written an awkward draft but I'm going to stall a couple of days because I want to give her a final draft which is not bitchy -- a consideration she obviously did not take.
On another front, it's been more than a week since the first rain of the season, and the ground is still damp in places, although the rain was barely .1 inch. That means it's winter.
The chicken man's place is really picturesque. It looks totally neglected but the animals look pretty nice, like he's taking better care of them than the buildings. There's a "beware of the dog" sign but the dog -- on a rather short chain, and when I was there, having no water in her dish (I had a water bottle and I filled it) -- the dog is really friendly and sweet and healthy looking. She's not particularly trained, though: she kept jumping on me in a begging way, very gently.
Tonight I get a hate letter, almost. She insists that I am responsible for her chicken, accuses me of negligence (I was not the one who put chickens into an urban yard, on a corner, with no fence: I in fact did everything I could to keep my dog inside), insists that I also owe her ten dollars for chicken medicine (not part of the original agreement, something that she tacked on later). Originally she said the chicken was four months old and now she says she took care of it for five months. She uses words like "minimal" and "at least" to hint that I should actually be giving her more than a chicken and this ten dollars she has come up with. She's "perturbed" and doesn't want to drive to Las Lomas anymore than I do.
I personally am quite finished with the chicken story. I have been responsible: it was I who approached her and offered to get her the chicken. I did what I could and when I got to my limit I gave her the money and a correct map to the chicken place (we'll recall that when she passed the phone number on to me she described its location as being about ten miles closer to Santa Cruz than it is -- and also gave me an incorrect phone number for herself).
The only step left is for me to write this up for her and give her the twelve bucks back. I've written an awkward draft but I'm going to stall a couple of days because I want to give her a final draft which is not bitchy -- a consideration she obviously did not take.
On another front, it's been more than a week since the first rain of the season, and the ground is still damp in places, although the rain was barely .1 inch. That means it's winter.
The chicken man's place is really picturesque. It looks totally neglected but the animals look pretty nice, like he's taking better care of them than the buildings. There's a "beware of the dog" sign but the dog -- on a rather short chain, and when I was there, having no water in her dish (I had a water bottle and I filled it) -- the dog is really friendly and sweet and healthy looking. She's not particularly trained, though: she kept jumping on me in a begging way, very gently.