Dear Diary,

I did not eat the Gaga.
I admit I was hunting burrrds today, but I did not eat the Gaga.
Here’s what happened. Well. Here is what happened to me. Don’t know about the chicken. Not my job to check on the chickens.
We were all (that dimwit Livvy, and my nemesis Jezebel) out on the roof, it was really nice and warm… and there was a burrd. In the bush. I had to have it!
So I sat, staring, calculating, figuring out the launch points…

Just one small problem. The burrd was a bit further away than I thought, and well… 
My math was spot on.
My feet… not so much. I was so busy calculating, and trying to find the best jump point, I climbed into the gutter, keeping my eye on the burrd…and…
I fell off the roof.
The human shrieked and I heard thump thump thump on the roof. Next thing I know, she’s in the car port, grabbing me, checking me all over (that was nice) and just generally panicking.
I was fine. I landed on my feet. Geez. All that fuss.

Later mum went outside, and then I heard her call for Gaga. All over she went. Through the woods, and on the lanes, and through the fields…
No Gaga.
She did that before. Disappeared and showed up again the next day, putting mum through all that worry.
But that was in the evening, not in the afternoon.
Mum got home really late but hadn’t found her.
I did not eat Gaga.
Hope she turns up tomorrow so mum is happy again.