This is Bomba the baby duck. Similar to Meschoo our pup that I procured after falling in love with the neighbors 2 ducks. Who like the neighbors dog I fell in love with, then disappeared suddenly into a cage, onto a plate, back to the cousins where they came from? Mahina the moon dog became a pig dog and was withdrawn to a grown up life and I as predicted after reading up on the subject. Gored. I don’t know if it was the David Crosby lyrics. “Love the one you are with.” Or that insight that taking drugs was like taking out a loan on your life and Crosby would know because he didn’t just say no to credit cards.
I slept through Mahina yelping, but John heard her and made me aware that he had seen her. He’s taken to sleeping in a tent since Sheree was here. Not far from the neighbors property line. John has always enjoyed public squabbles and usually about the grass. I’m against it. HE’S FOR IT. But back to Mahina. He wouldn’t admit to the visual of her bad eye. From 2 yards away I could see red. The half eyeball bloodshot and missing. Maybe the neighbors would finally let me have her. The neighbors who were miraculously disappeared probably to church. It was a weekend morning. How creepy of me RIGHT? to maintain a working knowledge of their schedules?
This baby duck BOMBA, I’ve tried to forget about giving him up to the promise of inseminating other ducks, the harem. Although I am happy to remember him smartening up about John and chasing him around the yard. I should have insisted we keep him. John used the word mean, that he got mean. Bomba fit into the bath tub in his youth, which wasn’t the most efficient or sanitary method of caring for a duck. None of the other ducks would play with him. He was segregated from the 100 others naturally. I realize this has not been exactly linear, but this isn’t a coliseum arch.