Duck!

How often does a duckling come strolling into your yard? Especially when your yard is being guarded by a dumb dog and a very smart cat, either one of whom is likely to eat and/or maul a baby duck? This poor, unfortunate soul waddled right up to Star, who barked at it, alerting Sinatra that a meal was on the loose. All you can eat duck! Before the cat could get a second shot at the duck's head, I rescued it, thus saving Freestone and Ruby from years of therapy. No kid wants to see a soft, cuddly duckling ripped to shreds by their pet!

Speaking of pets, it looks like this one is here to stay, getting the Ritz treatment until it dies or gets big enough to live at Barnes Park. I almost suspect that the innocent-looking little guy was unleashed by one of my kids who imagined - correctly - that a duckling would bring all the Saturday yard work to a halt. Freestone has named him Tyler, and is asking me at this very moment, "What should we do for Tyler's birthday?" I'm asking myself at this very moment, "What should we do for Tyler's funeral?" His head trauma does not bode well for his longevity. There may be therapy down the road after all.