Godparents are much in the news these days, what with Tony Blair donning white robes on the banks of the Jordan River, just like Jesus, for the christening of Grace Murdoch. So I am thinking about my own godmother, Gerd, and what she taught me many years ago.
When I was six, Gerd lived with us because my mother was in the hospital. Everyday, Gerd picked me up from school and said:
“It is important to have fun every day. Let’s do something fun shall we.”
So when the email exchange below came in, and with my godmother’s words ringing in my ears, I thought, this is so much fun that it must be shared.
For every partner who needs an excuse for a messy house, for anyone who has ever thought 'shit happens' was just an expression and for anyone who wants to have some fun today, this post is for you.
We have had a neighbourhood peacock (actually pea hen, so not even
attractive) hanging out outside the patio door for a few days now, pooping
constantly on the terrace outside. Smart guy that I am, I decided to sic
Turk on him to get rid of him once and for all. The ample reasons why Turk
will NOT be nominated for Rescue Dog of the Year now follow...
Turk headed out the door, ambling by the peahen who looked at her curiously
and decided she posed no threat. Just to be on the safe side however, she
figured it would be smart to come inside ( while Turk flopped on the lawn).
I tried to chase her back out, but now she was scared and started to fly
around the house, perching on counters, bookshelves and other high objects
while trying to get away from me. In the process she is knocking over
objects, scattering feathers everywhere, and oh yes one other thing. When
peahens are upset, they poop constantly. When they are feeling calm and
peaceful, they poop constantly. I'm sure there is no change in behaviour
when they are flying, mating or anything else.
So meanwhile I'm trying to catch her, which is not easy-this girl is the
size of a thanksgiving turkey, and very strong. I'm trying to grab her and
hold her wings in so she doesn't break them, but there is a lot of muscle
behind wings that can make a turkey fly, so she continually escapes. Plus
she's clearly experienced at this. I'm sure she has got a rap sheet as long
as your arm (wing) with counts of home invasion, creating mayhem, defecating
in public and heaven knows what else.
Finally I get her calmed down enough so I can grab her (staying away from
her claws), take her outside and release her over the garden wall. I know
she can fly back over it, but I'm thinking she might not be that excited
about doing so any more...
I give you this story in all its detail because a) I know you'll find it
amusing and b) when you return and find feathers in the strangest places, I
want you to be sure that I have not been dating a feather-festooned gogo
dancer in your absence. I mean, imagine me proffering this explanation in
response to a suspicious question from you!
Love, me Sent from my iPad
