Although we live within city limits, we do have a lot of wildlife cruising through our property. Usually they just mosey by, snack on the prettiest flowers, and then head back to the woods. But this guy (whom the kids have given the highly original name of “Bucky”) won’t leave.
All day long he nibbles at the orange berries off the pyacantha hedge, makes his “deposits” all over our lawn and then goes to the backyard to bed down under the mountain laurel.
The kids love him. When Bucky wakes up to start his day my son goes out on the porch to greet him. He no longer flinches, just looks over at us with his big brown eyes and then turns back to the berries. The cat hates him; in her dementia-addled brain I think she thinks he’s an unusually big dog and I fear one day I’ll find her dangling from his neck like a pendant, all four claws set tightly into his skin.
Eeek! He just walked by my office window as I'm typing this—I still can’t get used to seeing his fuzzy horns amble by. Must be time for his nap. Maybe I should follow his lead…
All day long he nibbles at the orange berries off the pyacantha hedge, makes his “deposits” all over our lawn and then goes to the backyard to bed down under the mountain laurel.
The kids love him. When Bucky wakes up to start his day my son goes out on the porch to greet him. He no longer flinches, just looks over at us with his big brown eyes and then turns back to the berries. The cat hates him; in her dementia-addled brain I think she thinks he’s an unusually big dog and I fear one day I’ll find her dangling from his neck like a pendant, all four claws set tightly into his skin.
Eeek! He just walked by my office window as I'm typing this—I still can’t get used to seeing his fuzzy horns amble by. Must be time for his nap. Maybe I should follow his lead…
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1 comment:
don't let Scott near Bucky with the car.
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