My neighbors are in the process of procuring five chickens. I’m so nervous my beloved red tabby, Queso, is going to venture over and “befriend” said hens.
I’ve good reason to worry. The last time this family had a bird in their care, the thing followed me home from a neighborly visit and attacked me on my own property. Now, it wasn’t a chicken, rather a sorta cross-eyed, mostly featherless baby bird they’d rescued from a fall out of the nest, but still. Whilst I shrieked and tried covering my head with a beach towel, Queso dove across the yard and SWALLOWED IT in one gulp. I tightened the towel around my head, nun-style and clapped my hand over my mouth, unsure of how to break the news that the rescue operation, was, well . . . over.
(I opted for a text.)
Speaking of animals, three horses reside at the end of my road: dark brown, light brown, white. One of them will let me pet him while the other two boredly ignore me when I approach. This may sound allegorical and that I’m about to make a profound comment on race relations, but I’m not. There are literally three different colored horses at the end of my road and the dark brown one lets me pet him. The only lesson here is that if you are walking down my road, don’t tire your mouth muscles making kissy noises to the white and light brown horses; they’ll just keep ignoring you and facing the opposite fence. Make the kissy noises to the dark one.
Speaking of super fun things, we got a shipping container swimming pool.
We are pleased with this decision.
And this concludes the scuttlebutt on a winding road in a small town in the big state of Texas.
(I’ll let you know if I manage to keep Queso outta that henhouse.)
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