I went to Table of Grace last week and the short (less than 15 min) sermon was about chickens. I know, I know, you're thinking chickens - well, it was a good sermon but the best part was after the service. I was the only person there that had chickens so I had to tell how they're like pets, named, can't eat them, all that stuff. But after the service, a member of the church told the minister and me about her Mother's chicken.
When she was growing up her Mother had a chicken named "Lulabelle"
and she was a house chicken. Now realize this lady was older than me
and so it was a while ago when this happened and having a chicken in the
house would be unusual to say the least. Anyhow, when they moved from
Danville to Durham they put the chicken and the dog in the car with the children, etc. They would stop along the way and the dog and the
chicken would get out of the car and do their business and come back and
they'd head on down the road.
One day Lulabelle got sick and they really thought she was dead.
But the Mother took Lulabelle and felt of her neck but determined she could be saved. Sure enough it was full of stuff but she couldn't breathe. So she took a razor blade and slit her throat, pulled out all that stuff (I won't elaborate) with a shoe horn (honest to pete that's what she said) and sewed her back up with a needle and thread.
Lulabelle lived several more years.
Sometimes you hear the strangest things in church. So I'm gonna name my next chicken Lulabelle!