She was. It had been exactly two weeks since Sasquatch carried her off.
After confirming the coloring of the deceased chicken matched that of Pat, TMOTH and Sissy walked the mere 1 1/2 blocks to the school to check out the carnage.
Yup, it was Pat. Apparently she attempted to cross the road (from our side of the road to that of the school) and was hit by a car. Based on the evidence it had been a pretty quick death, and it must have happened sometime during that day, since her body was not present during the morning school commute.
She was brought home and buried in the back half-acre next to a trio of rose bushes.
We were all amazed that Pat was found so close to home after so long. If she was that close she could have heard all of our calling, all of Dockers' crowing and the dinner bell ringing (we literally ring a bell when we give the chickens cracked corn - it's our Pavlovian way of making sure they all come when we need to lock them in the coop yard).
Maybe she didn't want to come home. Maybe I had it wrong all this time.
Maybe Sasquatch didn't abduct her.
Maybe she ran off with Sasquatch - a love affair otherwise forbidden by chicken sensibilities.
Don't cry, big guy. You'll love again someday.Somewhere, a lonely 'Squatch is crying.