The Goose

has disappeared. Which means I have a cage and a poultry hook in my car for no discernible reason. The hook is about three feet long, has a wooden grip and a metal pole that goes way out before bending around in a hook that would fit around a chikcen's leg, allowing a person to snag the bird without all that pesky running around. The cage could fit a smallish dog. I'm trying really hard not to get pulled over for speeding these days. I walked around the pond the last couple of days. I did find one dead goose, but it was a Canada goose. I also discovered that our pond runs into at least one other pond and there's a decent size stream feeding into both. So the goose could be pretty much anywhere at this point, incuding in the stomach of a fox or coyote. In my imagination, however, the goose was adopted by this person



and is now living a life of ease on the same farm by buddy Mike thinks his former dog was sent to after it bit someone.

I have to run out and pay some bills on the way to court, but if you're really good, later on I'll tell you all about this Sunday's Wiffle-Ball game against four members of a local high school football team. If you're not really good, I'll tell the story twice.