Chickens, a fox and a lie

My father was 91 years old the last time I lied to him.

He wasn't a demanding father, so there were never many falsehoods necessary in our lives – usually just the teenage ones, such as, "No, we weren't drinking beer when the car went into the ditch" - the common lies of youth. He died last June, and I was lucky to have enjoyed a year of morning visits with him before his death. I think we parted...