Nobody here but us chickens
Mar. 10th, 2010 09:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogWe watched a pretty amazing film last night- Ridicule, a story of love and wit in eve-of-Revolutionary France. Other than a distracting resemblance, I'd never previously had any historical awareness of, between Louis XVI and John Belushi-
(separated at birth? death, more likely, since neither lived more than a few years after these pictures)
- I found it to be touching, tense and funny.
We had a bit of all three of those things soon after we started the film and right after finishing our portion of the dinner component of the evening in. Eleanor roasted another of those free-range, sung-to-sleep chickens, this one a different brand (these chickens have Maya Angelou poems read to them by James Earl Jones). There were eight begging eyes directed at us as we cleaned our plates, belonging to the two dogs and two cats we allowed in for the movie (Zoey being too young to get into the R-rated film and too annoying to have around with chicken in the room). As we often do, we put the plates down for the dogs to "cold-water wash" before putting them in the dishwasher, and then, suddenly, Tasha went apeshit on Ebony. Snarls of death and baring of teeth. Moments later, she did it again- this time to Zoey, who we'd released from Kitty Prison by then.
This is not Tasha's usual way with her brother and sisters of either species. She obligingly steps aside to let the eight-month-old kitten get to a corner of her bowl and eat HER dog food, and while she'll sometimes mooch around other animals' bowls, she has never attacked anyone in that way in the nine-plus years we've had her here. My only theory is that this chicken was so fresh, so natural, it wasn't food, but rather prey, and that brings out a whole different side in her.
Moments later, all of them were in the living room, cuddling in various permutations. Once it wasn't fresh anymore, neither were they.
(separated at birth? death, more likely, since neither lived more than a few years after these pictures)
- I found it to be touching, tense and funny.
We had a bit of all three of those things soon after we started the film and right after finishing our portion of the dinner component of the evening in. Eleanor roasted another of those free-range, sung-to-sleep chickens, this one a different brand (these chickens have Maya Angelou poems read to them by James Earl Jones). There were eight begging eyes directed at us as we cleaned our plates, belonging to the two dogs and two cats we allowed in for the movie (Zoey being too young to get into the R-rated film and too annoying to have around with chicken in the room). As we often do, we put the plates down for the dogs to "cold-water wash" before putting them in the dishwasher, and then, suddenly, Tasha went apeshit on Ebony. Snarls of death and baring of teeth. Moments later, she did it again- this time to Zoey, who we'd released from Kitty Prison by then.
This is not Tasha's usual way with her brother and sisters of either species. She obligingly steps aside to let the eight-month-old kitten get to a corner of her bowl and eat HER dog food, and while she'll sometimes mooch around other animals' bowls, she has never attacked anyone in that way in the nine-plus years we've had her here. My only theory is that this chicken was so fresh, so natural, it wasn't food, but rather prey, and that brings out a whole different side in her.
Moments later, all of them were in the living room, cuddling in various permutations. Once it wasn't fresh anymore, neither were they.
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Date: 2010-03-10 08:37 pm (UTC)*chortle*