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I empathize.  Too much.  Especially when it comes to animals.  I anthropomorphize and then I empathize.  All this empathy gets me in trouble.  My husband has banned me from the SPCA (with good reason – I would come home with all the dogs).  I capture spiders and ladybugs in my house and release them back into the wild.  I bought an electric mouse trap that zaps mice dead in less than 10 seconds so that they don’t spend twenty minutes writhing in pain stuck in a wooden trap.

All this is leading me to my two new chickens – the Little Peepers.  I’ve had them exactly one week and three days.  What an anxious one week and three days!  It’s not easy introducing two new teenage chickens into an established flock of two crusty old hens.  I just want them all to get along; they just want to peck the hell out of the smallest chicken.  (I swear, she doesn’t just peep; she cries.)

Sometimes I wish I could just turn my empathy down a little.  I wish I had an empathy dimmer switch.  Although, the other side of the coin is apathy.  I guess I’d rather feel too much than nothing at all.  I suppose the trick is, like everything else in this crazy life, to find a balance.

Why is everybody always peckin' on me?

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