April 5, 2008

Gary was telling me about a friend of his (”Gram”) over in Texas. One Easter, Gram got her 2-yr old granddaughter (”M”) four baby Easter chicks - dyed purple, yellow, pink, and blue. M was thrilled with them. So was the family’s dog (”Capone”) - a labrador. He saw them as a veritable rainbow of new playmates / toys.

The baby chicks were temporarily living in a big box kept in the enclosed patio. With the new neighbors, Capone had been sequestered to a different part of the house to protect the chicks until they went home with M.

That afternoon, while M was down for a nap, Capone escaped, and went in search of his newfound playmates. He found them on the patio, and with one big pounce - poof - the yellow chick was a goner! Gram heard panicked chirping coming from the patio, and came running.

But it was too late. Capone had killed not only the yellow chick, but fatally wounded the purple one, too. Gram disposed of the yellow chick, and not knowing what to do with the other, laid the purple one down in the corner of the box, and covered it with a sheet.

Later, when M woke up, she found only three baby chicks in the box.

M: Gram - wurs d’wello cheek?
Gram: Uh, it’s hiding.
M: Oh. (silence.) Gram, wus wong wif t’puuple one?
Gram: It’s sleeping. Shhh, don’t wake him up. Let them sleep. (Stressing the need for sleep, Gram pulled the sheet back over the box.)
M: Oh, okay, Gram.

Satisfied with Gram’s answers - and bored with sleeping chicks, M scampered off to play with her toys.

Gram managed to keep M away from the box for the rest of the night. The next morning, she got up early and drove over to the petstore before M woke up. Gram picked up two more chicks - purple and yellow, took them home and stuck them in the box.

Later, M woke up and went to check on her baby chicks.

M (excitedly): Gram - come look! look! t’puuple one wake! is wake!

As Gram was making her way to the patio, Capone appeared out of nowhere and, bolting to the box, pounced on the purple chick, killing it. Horrified, poor M stood there watching as an assortment of tootie-frootie feathers were flying and squeals of chirping came from inside the box.

The yellow chick, hearing the cries from its fallen comrade, was running around the box chirping trying to escape Capone. It should’ve been quiet; instead it fell victim to Capone’s bite.

There was no hiding it from M this time. Gram and M buried the poor baby chicks.

The next day, Capone looking for another playmate, went after and killed the poor, unsuspecting baby bunny Gram had gotten to replace the chicks.

Guess there won’t be any more bunnies or chicks at Gram’s house at Easter - unless they’re the stuffed variety.

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