This is Nugget.
Not just any chicken — his chicken.
Each morning, before his shoes even touch his feet, he races outside barefoot — even if the ground is freezing — just to be with her. He speaks to her like a best friend, sharing his worries, dreams, spelling test results, and everything in between. She shadows him everywhere, waiting patiently at the gate until he returns from school.
At first, we thought it was adorable.
But it quickly became clear — it was something far more profound.
When his mom left last year, something inside him just… shut off. No more smiles. No appetite. Not a word. Just a quiet boy where joy used to be.
Then one morning, Nugget appeared.
A messy puff of golden fluff, stumbling into our backyard like she’d been sent from somewhere else.
And slowly, things began to change. He smiled again. He laughed. He slept. He returned.
Because of one scrappy little chicken.
She wasn’t just a pet. She was his anchor. His reason to get up each day. The warmth in a house that had gone cold. She filled the space his mother had left behind.
But yesterday… Nugget went missing.
We searched high and low — the coop, the trees, the roadside, the fields. Not a single feather. Not a sound.
That night, he cried himself to sleep holding a picture of her, whispering her name.
And this morning — there she was.
Standing in the alley, like she’d never been gone. A little muddy, a scratch on her beak… but safe. Alive.