We now own a duck. Not by choice--he picked us. I first saw"Cruiser", AKA "Baby Huey", cross thestreet. Feet slapping the pavement, the duckwaddled purposefully in our direction, and madehimself at home in the garage, behind Paul's truck--flopping himself down like he owned the place.
I tried chasing Cruiser to the lawn, hoping he'd go backwhere he'd come from. We chased each other in circles--all the while, Cruiser emanating snorts of displeasure,and trail markers.I gave up and went back into the house. Sitting at my desk, I caught sight of somethingbobbing along the window--Cruiser was headingto the back yard.
By now, Cruiser had elicited attention from Paul, whohad already developed an attachment to the hapless duck. Paul set out a bowl of cold water since the heatindex was already 105. Cruiser lapped the bowl until the water was gone.
So now, the duck has adopted us. Cruiser is programmed to appear in the morning,afternoon, and often, in the evening. Paul's discovered Cruiser likes unsalted tortilla chips. Cruiser won't win any beauty contests,but he's won this game.