The quiet mouse

Not my chicken. I don’t even have chickens. I don’t like live chickens. I screenshot this from Facebook this morning.

This chicken seems ready to battle the world. Ready to take on a villain.

Its how I feel when someone tells me I can’t do something I know I’m capable of.

This is the same look my cat gives me when I tell her it’s freezing out and she’ll be cold in the snow.

Its the look you feel when you know your music and know your field show and know that you’re band will be badass on the field.

The look you give people when they want to hold your babies and call them ” my babies”.

The look the cat gives you when you tell them that they are out of catnip.

The look your full sized dairy goat gives the cat she hates.

How you want to respond to your friend who takes months to answer a text.

How you feel when you find out a friend got married and didn’t tell anyone or invited anyone.

When your kid takes the handle off the toilet for the umteenth time.

When you step on a Lego and realize that you missed one.

That flash of anger that appears when you think about people who purposely hurt others.