Chapter 5: Chicken Coop Mayhem

Every morning, Grandma would go to the chicken coop to collect eggs.

But somehow, the eggs kept disappearing.

Today was the worst—the coop was empty. Not a single egg.

Grandma and I stared at each other.

She asked, “Was it you who stole the eggs?”

She squinted at me, giving me a look so fierce my fur nearly stood on end.

How can a kitten’s business be called stealing? At most, it’s pilfering!

It’s all the chickens’ fault—they’re constipated!

I rolled around at Grandma’s feet, pawing her pants and showing off my fluffy belly.

I rolled my eyes and let out my cutest, highest-pitched meow.

But it didn’t work this time.

She scolded me for being greedy and ordered me to stand under the tree as punishment, waving her rolling pin like a tiger.

But no matter how fierce she acted, she never actually hit me.

And I never bothered to dodge, because I knew Grandma would never hurt me.

She had no real bite—she’d stomp back inside to knit, ignoring me no matter how much I meowed.

So I sat on the windowsill, pretending to be sad, but soon sneaked into the chicken coop.

Feathers flew, and the smell of fresh hay and chicken feed filled the air. The hens saw me as their mortal enemy, flapping wings, ruffling tails, and jabbing their sharp beaks at me.

They pecked my butt, pecked my head.

I was so scared I nearly lost control, screaming for Grandma.

“Meow ah ah ah ah!”

I can’t take it! I can’t take it!

Feathers and fur flew in the coop. I fought one against eight—four paws no match for eight beaks.

Luckily, Grandma came to the rescue, banging a metal mixing bowl on the chicken chasing me.

She scooped me up and scolded the hens, “Mess with my Pearl again, and you’ll be Sunday dinner, you hear me?”

Hmph!

Eat some feed and you act all high and mighty, but mess with my Pearl and you’re chicken stew!

Garlic, ginger, wine, cumin, chopsticks—everything goes in the pot.

But Grandma cooled off and let them be.

I huddled in her arms, trembling like a leaf, burrowing into her armpit as if terrified. She carried me inside, fussing over my fur and muttering about how tough country life could be for a city cat.

That night, I got to enjoy delicious stewed chicken.

With my head covered in peck marks, I buried my face in the bowl, eating happily.

You never know how much you can eat until you really push yourself.

Grandma kept piling food into my bowl. I took one bite, she added two more spoonfuls.

I ate for twenty minutes straight, and my bowl was still overflowing.

I was grief-stricken.

“Meow awoo!”

Grandma! Please, no more!

Grandma was shocked, quickly scooping in another big spoonful. “Look at you, so hungry you can’t even speak human anymore!”