The Reason My Daughter Persisted in Stealing the Neighbor’s Hen: Her Secret
I finally realized why my daughter kept snatching the neighbor’s fowl 🐔.
I initially believed it to be a passing phase.
Even though we didn’t have any chickens, I would occasionally discover Clove, the neighbor’s large, domineering hen, in our chicken coop. My daughter Junie was there all the time, whispering secrets in her ear and cradling her like a shabby stuffed toy.
Every time I brought Clove back to the neighbor, Miss Dottie, I apologized. “Your daughter loves hard,” she would say, laughing. Nothing is wrong with that.
However, I saw her taking Clove once more one afternoon. As though they were off on a journey, she had even brought drink and a blanket in her small cart this time.
“Why do you always bring Clove here, sweetheart?” I said softly as I knelt down.
She muttered, “Because Miss Dottie said she was going to put her to sleep forever,” as she raised her large eyes to me. similar to what we did with Grandpa. Furthermore, Clove did nothing improper.
My heart became constricted.
I was at a loss for words. I so accompanied her to Dottie’s home. Outside, she was pruning her rose bushes next to the fence. Junie said, “You can’t take her!” before I could say anything further. I had already assured her that she would be secure.
After letting out a long sigh, Dottie said something unexpected that changed the way I perceived Junie and the hen.
I understood then that it was more than simply a hen.
She remarked, “Clove is more than just a hen.” She was my husband Clyde’s property. The year before he went, I got her.
At the time, I gave her a serious look. Not simply her face, but also the lines around her mouth, which conveyed quiet grief in addition to age. The kind that does not let you sleep while everyone else does.
She said, “She’s the last link I have left.” However, she is elderly, no longer lays eggs, and consumes a lot of food. The veterinarian discovered a tumor. I can’t afford to get another surgery.
I was offended by the thought that we would have to give up an animal for financial reasons. I glanced at Junie, who was caressing Clove tenderly, as though to console her—or console herself.
I muttered, “Junie thinks she can save her.”
Dottie gave a pitiful smile. “That young girl has a hero’s heart.” However, a heart alone cannot cover all expenses.
“Mom, can’t we help Clove?” Junie asked me as I was tucking her in that evening.
I was honest with her: it wasn’t that easy. that we occasionally have to make difficult decisions. She refrained from crying. She simply nodded and said, “I’ll make it easy.”
It took me a few days to realize.
Junie put up a stand selling lemonade. No, not to play. “Help me save Clove,” she had written on a placard featuring a picture of Clove and a heart.
She was requesting donations rather than selling lemonade. The neighbors arrived. Then a picture was uploaded to the internet. And in a matter of days, individuals from other towns gathered to lend their support to my young daughter’s noble endeavor.
She raised more than $400 in a week.
Dottie froze when I gave her the envelope. Her eyes gleamed as she inquired, “What’s this?” For Clove, I uttered. “Junie wants to assist her in receiving treatment.”
On her doorstep, Dottie took a seat. Tears fell. She made no effort to stop them. “This little hen would have delighted Clyde.”
The next Tuesday, Clove underwent surgery. It was a benign tumor. According to the veterinarian, she still has a few healthy years left.
Happily, Junie created a paper medal that read, “The bravest hen in the world,” and affixed it to the chicken coop.
However, Dottie injured her hip after falling two months later. When she went to feed Clove, Junie was the one who discovered her in time.
Dottie asked me after the hospital stay, “Can you keep Clove? I doubt that I will return.
The coop was moved to a shaded spot. Junie nicknamed it “Clove’s Castle” and adorned it.
A forgotten egg hatched one morning in Dottie’s former shed. A little, awkward girl was born. Junie gave it the name Clover. It was a miracle, she claimed.
And I believe she was correct.
