Crossing over 270 on Cemetery Road yesterday I noticed a backup in the eastbound lanes that was kind of funny (which of course tells you what direction I was going). As if the just-after-5 traffic isn’t bad enough at every intersection with ramps to the outerbelt, a family of geese decided 5:10 was the ideal time to chug across from the grassy median to the pond behind Damon’s. At first I saw only the lead goose and thought “I hope that SUV hits that stupid goose,” and then I noticed all the puffball babies and felt like the worst person on earth.
How can it be that the baby version of a useless, hateful thing like a Canadian Goose is so doggone cute? And how is it I could grow up on a farm and remain such a wimp-bag where cutesy animals are concerned?
Last weekend I “met” my cousin’s 4-H pig for the year. We’ll not even go into how my brain justifies loving both the personality and the flavor of a pig. I’d be equally useless as an exterminator or as a PETA activist.