Just ignore her, Lindy, like she'll no doubt be ignoring us (even more than usual). I know about the boring little announcement she's going to blab about later, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you and me. Yawn. (Yo! Of course chickens can yawn.)
She just sticks us up here for, for. . .color! It's true. We look good above the flower photo down there. That's like buying a painting to match your sofa or a dog to go with your coat. She treats us like objects--and I don't mean the celebrity blogstar objects that we are. Did you know people actually email her requesting more photos of us? Did you know that? I have to get to work on my blog. I need to steal more pictures of us. She has an entire folder named Chickens. And a separate one called Whitey.
We are totally underappreciated. We simply don't get enough respect around here. Or attention. Or treats. I didn't see her flipping any of those multigrain pancakes over to us during that breakfast revolt. Or crepes. Or peanut butter waffle sandwiches. No, it's kitchen scraps, moldy cheese, and banana peels for old Lindy and Whitey. It really is a miracle we're still alive. And we even went back to laying eggs. I think it's our fans that keep us going. We have to think of them. What would they do without us?