Today as we were heading to the car my mother-in-law’s rooster, a black and white Barred Rock, moved in a threatening way towards my four year old son, Lazarus. His wings were flared downward, his head and neck level with the ground. He rattled his feathers. I threw my flip flop at him and he ran away. He was a rooster with a history of violence. Thinking that he had been adequately subdued, I turned my back on Laz to put my camera in the car. By the time I walked back around our gray mini-van the rooster had returned and Lazarus was under brutal attack. The demon chicken was hovering in the air spurring my baby in the stomach and then went over his head and hit him in the back on his way back to the ground. Lazarus was hysterical in no time. At that moment my husband Scott walked out of the house and witnessed the crime. We both took off after that rooster, leaving poor Lazarus wailing on the sidewalk. I was absolutely furious!
Scott headed the rooster off and I swung around to flank him, trying to corner him under the porch.
“Let’s kill it.” I growled.
“Let’s. Scott agreed.
We tried for several minutes to catch that slimy fowl as Lazarus screeched and yelled at the top of his little lungs. I soon realized that the creature was too quick for us and I turned my attention to Lazarus and the wounds he had suffered. The rooster’s talons had left two long, red scratches and a small puncture on his belly and a smaller scratch on his lower back. It was sweltering out in the sun. I lifted Lazarus, who was still bawling, and carried him towards the house. Scott muttered something about putting out a hit and slipped past us into the air conditioning.
I put Lazarus on the kitchen island and found anti-biotic ointment for his damaged skin, thinking there was little I would be able to do for his damaged psyche. The noise Laz was making soon got the attention of his grandfather, who he calls Papa. Papa stood beside our wailing baby and tried to comfort him. He cooled his head with a cloth. I got the poor child a glass of cool water. After several minutes, Lazarus was simmering rather than boiling over and Papa said,
“Don’t worry Laz. Papa will make sure that mean, old rooster never hurts you again.” To me, under his breath he said, “I’m going to take care of this.” He sounded like the godfather.
The “grandfather”, Scott and his brother Richard went out after the attacker with a big, huge shotgun. Lazarus was simpering.
“Is Papa going to kill Pot Pie?” He asked.
“I believe so, Laz.” I answered hesitantly.
I wasn’t sure how he would react. He is terribly tender-hearted.
“Good.” He said grimly. “He is an evil bird.”
We sat there in silence for a few minutes and soon heard the first shattering “BOOM”! Lazarus gasped and then we were quiet again, listening. The second boom followed in several minutes.
“Is he dead?” Laz asked me.
“I think so.” I said.
Lazarus was quiet for several seconds and then asked, “Do animals go to heaven?” I thought for a moment about that question and it’s deep, philosophical implications, then I nodded. I couldn’t see the harm in saying, “Yes. I think that they do.”
Lazarus instantly started howling again. I was surprised. I had thought that knowing Pot Pie would be in heaven would be a comfort to him.
“Laz! What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.
It took him several minutes to answer me. His quiet little voice broke as he said, “Pot Pie will attack me! Even in heaven!” He cried as if his poor little heart had broken.
“Oh, Lazarus,” I clarified. “Only good animals go to heaven.”
He slowly calmed down and simply said, “Oh.” I was relieved that he didn’t logically follow with the next obvious question.
The posse came loudly back into the house, celebrating an easy hunt. The rooster was “nothing but a pile of black feathers”. Papa put his big black gun on the top of a high bookshelf and informed Lazarus that his enemy was no more. Lazarus was glad. He asked to see the dead rooster. I looked at Scott and he shrugged. I lifted Lazarus down and Daddy and Mommy took him out to look at what happens to you when you are an evil rooster.
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