I’ve been mistaken for many things in the past: a supermodel, a dog, a hooman, even a horse, but this latest one really takes the cake.
I was happily slumbering away on the bed next to the hoomans last night when mum hooman sat up and looked around.
“One of the chickens from next door has escaped into our yard!” she hissed. “I can hear it from here!”
Chickens? What do you mean chickens? There were no chickens. There was only I, breathing heavily and a bit whistly, sounding just like a chicken roosting apparently.
She realised her mistake after a few sleepily confused moments and went back to sleep.
Me? A chicken! Hurumph!