Wyatt use to play a game with me when he was only a year or so old. We would be looking at the animal book that I had bought for him and I would tell him the name of the animal and how the animal sounded. Then he would repeat how the animal sounded, laughing like crazy. When he saw the picture of a rooster, I taught him that roosters say ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’. From then on he never said rooster. No matter how many times you told him rooster, he would always say; Doodle-doo. So when he saw a rooster in my back yard the first time, I guess it was only natural that he would name him Doodle-Doo. Wyatt was yet to reach two years old, and the name stuck. “Doodle Doo” it was, and because of Wyatt, he became a part of our family just the same as the dogs and cat. Funny how animals can make a place for themselves in the family and in your heart.
“Doodle-Doo” was a baby when he first came into my yard, along with over 17 various chickens that the Hispanics let run loose. I hated those chickens! They would scratch out all my shavings and mulch that I labored so hard to place under all my bushes and plants. All the chickens left, thank goodness, but doodle-Doo remained. He was so tame that he even begin walking along beside me as I walked the pups. If you happened to ride by, you would have seen me walking my pups with Doodle-Doo and the cat following close beside me!
Every time Wyatt came over, he had to run into the back yard and see if Doodle-doo was home. He would be calling his name over and over the whole time he was running back there.Will would run to the back yard too, but he didn’t care too much for Doodle-doo. He was a little scared of him truth be told. Little Will would rather swing on the old tire swing or such!
It became a daily thing for Doodle–Doo to be here and I began to look for him everyday too. When I didn't see him, I would call him and he would soon come running.
Of course I fed him everyday too. He came up at the exact same time as the old cat that adopted me did. He would wait patiently in the yard right next to the porch and I would throw him bits of old bread. He loved the dry cat food and would sometimes wait until the cat had finished and then jump up on the porch and help himself to what was left. He drank his water from the cat water too.
This went on for around 3 years, just up until a few weeks ago. I noticed that the last few times I had seen him, he looked like a big dog or such had jumped on him. His feathers were missing and his head was hurt. When the next door neighbor said she had seen a big dog chasing him across her yard, I got a bad feeling in my stomach.
Doodle-Doo is gone. I call and call and he doesn’t come. He hasn't been "home" in over three weeks, so I guess he went off somewhere and died. I notice that there are two more chickens running wild around here, along with a big white and black rooster…but not Wyatt’s Doodle-Doo.
Wyatt is five years old now. He really doesn’t understand what death is all about, but if you ask him, he will tell you that his Uncle Brent is up there with Jesus in Heaven… along with his Papa Danny and Annie ( our sweet dog ).
Wyatt and Annie
I figure there has been enough loss for this little boy. So, the next time he runs around to my back yard and wants to know where Doodle-Doo is, I think I will just tell him that Doodle-Doo ran off to the farm with a pretty little red haired girl chicken. That should get a laugh from him, but God bless his little heart, he loved that rooster so much. I know he is still going to miss him.
Come to think of it, so will his maw maw.
GOD BLESS YOU ALL.