Meet Chat, the chicken that thinks she’s a cat.
She has repudiated all chicken activities. She doesn’t scratch. She doesn’t roost. She doesn’t cluck. She doesn’t lay eggs.
She comes when I call Kitty, Kitty. She makes herself comfortable at night among the cats on the steps, actually sleeping with them. She marches inside to be fed. She allows herself to be petted. I won’t say that she purrs, but she seems quite happy with the attention.
The cats have accepted her presence and allow her idiosyncrasies as good friends should.
Yesterday, Devil, Licky, Angel, and Tiger went out hunting as all cats do. Being cats, they scaled the wall, slipped through the fence or climbed onto the roof to reach the great beyond. Chat does not have the same abilities and had, up until yesterday that is, stayed within the borders of the Flores mini-ranch.
Yesterday, the front gate was open and Chat made good her escape, probably thinking to follow her friends in a little hunting expedition.
And that was the end of Chat, the chicken that thought she was a cat.
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Surviving Mexico 
RIP Chat. Who knows, maybe she’ll come back?
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It’s been over a week. Chances are slim. Coyotes have come a’calling.
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Oh no! Poor kitty kitty. Great post, by the way!
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