"The other day as I was leaving the grocery store, one of the bag boys hollered after me, 'Ma'am, is that your chicken?!' Someone else had apparently purchased a ready-to-eat rotisserie chicken from the deli department and had yet to pick it up at the checker's stand, but that shouted question struck me as very funny, somehow — I had visions of being embarrassed at a big public gathering as my raucous pet chicken got away from me and started causing lots of trouble, with security guards chasing me and accusing, 'Ma'am, is that your chicken?!'"