There's five of them. They're mental.
The ones I refer to are real and distinctly non chocolatey. They love lettuce. Who loves lettuce? Cocktails, yeah, But lettuce?
I found myself talking to them within minutes of arriving. AND I'm carrying the cat past them because the cat...the predatory if-it-bleeds-i-can-eat-it hunter...is scared of them. I let her out and she bounded through the door and executed what I swear was a complicated salsa move to redirect by 90 degrees without losing speed in order to avoid them. I swore I wouldn't do that. Ha.
But then who knew the cat was a chicken.
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