Smally, The Miracle Chicken

The miracle of Smally is not that she can type, but that she's lived to type.

I mentioned in a previous post how adventurous and independent Smally is, just like you'd expect a typing chicken to be. Well, last month, Smally ventured where no chicken should ever go - into the mouth of a dog.

Oh what a sad day it was! We thought she was a goner. We wrapped her up, brought her inside and snuggled with her in front of the fire. Her eyes closed and her head drooped.



We cooed encouragingly in her ear, but in our hearts we silently prepared to say goodbye. We decided to take Smally out with the rest of the girls, thinking she'd be better off in her normal environment, among her own kind. Aidan kept watch, coming in every few minutes to report Smally's condition. At one point he asked me to come out and check on Smally with him, and I said, "Not right this minute. I'm in the middle of cooking chicken."

Could I be any more insensitive? Cooking one chicken and nursing another back to health, all in the same day? When dinner was served, Aidan pushed his plate away and said, "Pass".



And even though dinner was delicious, I didn't make him eat. (The dish is Pancit, a Filipino dish made with chicken, vegetables and rice noodles. I've made it several times since, and Aidan loves it. Here's the recipe I loosely use; shredding the chicken in the Kitchenaid is brilliant.)

The morning after the dog attack, we were delighted to discover that Smally had made it through the night. When Aidan got home from school and George got home from work, they both asked immediately, "How's Smally?"

Smally is still just fine. She's still independent and adventurous, and she's the friendliest chicken in the flock. Perhaps she's confident that if she survived a dog, she can survive anything - from little children holding her too close and too long, to eating leftover Chinese food and being used as a photo prop.



Smally, you are our favorite miracle. We'd love you even if you couldn't type.