trystinn | Musings on a Critter-Filled Life

I must admit it is a bit surreal to wake up to ducks quaking under my window. I'm not sure if this is part of their religious observances or if they just want me up to feed them. Either way, it's a perfect alarm clock. From inside the house, it's rather confusing to sort out where the ducks are. From inside the master bathroom, they sound right outside even as they are out near the porch on the other side of the house. And they do manage to look very embarrassed when I catch them near the porch: "nope, we weren't trying to come into the house through the dog door. Hadn't even crossed our minds. Nope, not us."

Last night, Flash came over and sat down forcefully, sighed and looked up at me with liquid, condemning eyes. Every so often he would look over his shoulder quickly, sending his ears swinging, sigh and then look back at me with even sadder eyes. All of which are part of his "Momma, you gotsta fix this!" tattle-tale routine.

Recent reports:
Momma, the ducks are surrounding Basset Rock and I want to go howl on it.
Momma, the ducks are drinking out of the dog's water bowl. Again.
Momma, Libby is stuck on the roof yowling.
Momma, the ducks are sitting on the porch steps.
Momma, we haven't been fed yet.
Momma, Doodle is playing with Libby and I want to!
Momma, Gracie is bossing us around. Again.
Momma, Libby won't share the couch.
Momma, the ducks are eating the cat food. Again.
Momma, I haven't had a treat in 2 hours.
Momma, Doodle locked himself in the closet I wanted to lock myself in.
Momma, Libby is playing too rough! (reported while she was viciously and repeatedly attacking him, by wrapping herself around his thick neck, while he stood there stock still.)

These are the golden moments of a sitcom life.