In Kindergarten I won a raffle and got to take home a newly hatched baby chick that we had been incubating in the class. She was beautiful, I named her Blondie and fell in love. We kept her under heat lamps in a box in the garage until she was strong enough to roam outside. Time passed, she got huge, and then one morning, "she" cock-a-doodled dood her little beak off. She was a he, I was the proud owner of a big strapping rooster. Blondie was feisty, and no one could come near her (he will always be a she to me) but me. I was a tiny 5 year old, but I'd pick her up and carry her around under one arm.
Sadly my love story takes a very sad turn here. One night, our cranky next door neighbor (who used to hang her HUGE bras on the edge of her open garage door to dry) knocked on our door and complained about the cock-a-doodling-dooing. Something about sleep and work and blah blah blah. I fully expected my loyal and loving parents to tell her to get over it, if we have to look at the scary bras, you have to listen to our beloved chicken rooster. They didn't. My dad said something like, "I totally understand, we'll get rid of it." I was crushed as they tried to reason with me.
A couple days later, I came home from school to find my mom in the yard with a rope she had fashioned into a crude lasso, chasing the chicken and trying to catch it. She'd made some shady deal with some woman she knew who knew someone who had a farm and the plan was to stick the chicken in the box and drive it to the Von's parking lot to make the trade. She was so grateful to see me since I was the only one who could catch the chicken but I wanted no part of it and refused to help. So she bribed some boys walking down our street with some Kit-Kat bars and had them do it.
That was the end of me and the chicken. Apparently, she raised hell in the box on the way to the farm, good for her.
I wish I had photos, closest thing I have is a shot of Arev holding a chicken, that's exactly what I looked like back in those days.
I've been hesitating to start the documentation of the Minassian family and our pets, but I think it's time. The stories are dark, and anyone who knows us and reads them will finally understand why, as adults, we are simply not pet people.
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Although some roosters can and do make nice pets, most can be quite aggressive and all are loud. It is nearly impossible to place an adult rooster in a new ...
added by Chaghig Walker| let's go swimming February 23, 2010 created by Chaghig Walker | |
| Marshmallow Shooters February 07, 2010 created by Chaghig Walker | |
| Blooms among the gloom February 06, 2010 created by Chaghig Walker | |
| Sevan weekend January 29, 2010 created by Chaghig Walker |
Uh oh. What's the statute of limitation on pet-icide? You realize you're about to put me at risk for some serious time in pet jail! Wait, I'm already IN pet jail. I live with three, stinky cats and three enormous pet lovers!! Try as I did to disuade Sevan, he loves the cats and makes me buy dog biscuits for all of the neighborhood canines. Long live the Minassian Pet Cemetary!!!
39 weeks ago39 weeks ago
What a special, and somewhat sad, moment! I'm sure Blondie is still scraping his way around that farm well into old age... I want more Minassian pet moments!
39 weeks agoOh lord Chaghig, you have opened the Pandora's Box of Minassian pet "moments". The sheer number of small dead animals buried in the vicinity of 1917 Sunset Lane is a sobering thought.
58 weeks agoI know, I'm making it my project to document it all properly, so my kids can better understand where I'm coming from down the road when they start begging for animals. Stay tuned, more coming.
58 weeks agoWhat a hilarious (and sad) story! You are a wonderful story-teller.
58 weeks agoI am so sorry Chaghos.yes Blondie was the victim of a self centered neighborThere was no shady deal.My classmate at CSUF,had a grandpa that had a farm in Garden Grove.She offered to take it to the farm.SO yes the rooster in a box was traded in a parking lot ,she drove a red VW bug,the next day she told me that at her third traffic light on Harbor Boulevard ,the rooster was on her lap.She had to stop and asked for help to get him back in the box.I guess he was having separation anxiety.I came home and told you that blondie wanted to go back to her mama.I dont know if you remembered the funny side of the story.When I told her husband that we sent the rooster away,his reaction was just because my wife complained you did'nt have to do it.
58 weeks agoSounds like the husband also didn't like staring at the over sized bras drying on the garage door! This is truly telling of your non-petness. Poor Blondie!
58 weeks ago