How rotten, you ask?
The family let her have a pet chicken.
How does that make her spoiled rotten?
They let her keep the pet chicken IN THE HOUSE.
They let the chicken roost at night on the back of a dining room chair, newspapers spread on the floor beneath it.
But Daisy? She was always the baby, the spoiled one, until she passed away at 83. She was the one who played games with us. And watched soap operas. And made fudge and popcorn balls. Who was a picky eater and was catered to her by her family her entire life. She was fun.
And she once had a freakin' pet chicken! How awesome is that?
|Daisy and her chicken, ca. 1912|
This post was an entry for Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop with the prompt:
Throwback time! Share an old photo and tell us about it.