There’s a Duck in my sink.
The baby chicks have learned how to fly. They are flying to the top of the feeders. They are flying to the top if the waterer. They are roosting on the edge of the giant tub. This is a problem because they are still living in a bathroom… in my house. They are now flying out of the giant tub and hopping around the bathroom.
Since the baby chicks are now roosting (on anything they can find to perch on) they are constantly above the ducks. Consequently, the ducks are covered in baby chick poop.
Since Ping is our darling house-duck, he simply can not be covered in baby chick poop. This is what first brought about the “bath.”
You could say that Ping enjoyed his bath, but that would be an understatement.
Ping thought he had arrived in the Promised Land. He liked the sink. He liked his bath.
He took to it like………….. a duck to water?
Normally, around here we are either bathing a hound dog who is terrified of water (no fun) or cats (even less fun). It was refreshing to bathe an animal who didn’t whine, whimper, cry, moan, meow, scratch, claw, shake or try to escape.
He paddled. He swam. He splished. He splashed. He loved his bath.
After his bath we were very careful to keep him wrapped up and warm.
Lucky for Ping we had a fire going. He fluffed and groomed himself in front of the fireplace while Duke watched.
No more baby chick poop. Fluffy, clean, little Ping……….
back in his diaper in my (A-hem) living room.
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