Chook struts to waterbowl, pauses, looks at water… head turns half away… Moves off… pecks at nothing, feigns another peck, pecks again…
Man watches all through shadecloth screened dunny door, sees iron lacework, recently invented shadecloth, lazy stillness of spring… he shits…. Feels time stretched all ways… life moves… somewhere…
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Look at that little pupper! I want to see his face.
I am angling for a dog when we move. Drew is not in favor of the idea, but you know . . . I’m a chick. We have our ways.
You NEED a dog. To protect you. And so you don’t get lonely when he’s out of town.
Better than a suave sophisticated male friend from work, right?
Oh yes, you are SO getting a dog.
I’m with Averil. I want to see his noggin’!!!
Chook….late, great man of many talents. Pecking too? That’s a new one!
Different chook I think… not as great as the one you refer to.
I have many letters he wrote.
I may use them as the basis for a book… maybe.
Get off farcebook and do some blogposts!
Is that the infamous house-car? I want to look around in there for sure. (Nosy one here.)
I’ll get around to that soon. Soonish…
One day…
Soon.
Nosy is good. The reckon it’s the nosey that makes the writer into an author.