Mrs Fatso has died

It seems my skin is getting thicker the longer I live up here in the mountains. The current count of animals is currently 5 chooks, 3 dogs, a mouse, 3 gold fish.
So far fatalaties are 1 chook (stolen or eaten), 3 chooks slaughtered by fox, 2 gold fish (killed by me as far as I can tell - bad pond habits...getting better) we also recently buried one of the kids guinea pigs (but the guinea pig resided elsewhere, we just took it in on it's last very sick day). The Guinea pig is buried under rock by the fish pond at the 9 yr olds request.

But the most recent, awful death was that of the old time chook Mrs Fatso. She of "I have survived 3 fox attacks". She of "I am the boss - get out of my way". She of "You will not put flee dust on my bottom or I will have a heart attack and die!" protest. And she did. She was old. She didn't move much. And we suspect she was not well, as, like and old dog she would wander across the yard..have a sit down...wander more...have another sit down.... So A decided to dust all the chooks, and while the others fluttered and put up with it...Mrs Fatso fluttered...then fluttered less...then quite gradually her neck started flopping. The kids and I were watching...then kind of worried. Then A looked at me - and oh dear...Mrs Fatso was having a heart attack! She died pretty much there and then. But the wonderful way the children dealt with it was to come up with the appropriate burial theme (rocks, wooden sticks for cross and a few flowers - all totally creeped me out!) So she was duely buried in a very sombre ceremony - and I barely cried. Thus my skin is getting thicker. I'm not sure how I have lived over 40 years and never had a burial in the backyard. Then in the space of 1 year have have had two! Interesting times ahead. I love every mintue of it.

I trust as the years are moved through, I will plant better crops, raise lots of animals and just become part of the fabric of living in regional Australia. A say's it's not exactly country, but it is. My country anyway.