It's been over two weeks now since Avo's untimely death and I have been distracted by handymen replacing our crumbling and clogged 80 year old pipes. I decided to buck up this afternoon and go out to the sheep pen and visit Finley.
He was very stiff in stance and looked older, less innocent. A small trickle of blood was coming down one of his horns which appeared to have a small puncture wound, like maybe he butted his head against a nail...or perhaps it was part of the unfortunate scenario. (Later Rick and I flushed it out. He had noticed it, but badly needing new glasses, thought it was just a glump of dirt).
I went to the shed and began picking up feathers, making a little bouquet in my hand, tears streaming down my face. As it started to come together and look like a familiar chicken Finley came over. I held it out to him and he sniffed it. Then he lowered his head and used his hoof to make the 'I want' sign and I started weeping.
I want him back, too, Finley.
So whatever happened involving the sheep that ended the life we knew as Avo it was very clear Finley was missing him, too.