Rooster Crows No More

Each Nov. 1st I take my dogs shopping to celebrate birthdays. They actually have the same birthday four years apart. Pi always picks some kind of disgusting chew bone or treat. Sonic almost always picks a stuffed animal which lives a short abused little life. He usually performs a squeak-ectomy later followed by complete de-stuffication. Only the fuzzy pelt remains as his prize. And prize it he does as he trots about the house shaking it and  dragging it out the dog door into the muddy yard.

This year Sonic insisted that he needed a stuffed rooster. Numerous attempts to redirect to him to a quiet toy failed and  he returned again and again to a little black and white chicken. When  he bites it, the stupid thing crows three times. Since November the obnoxious toy has alarmed me day and night with incessant crowing. Strangely, the rooster has been meticulously cared for by little Sonic. It has not be de-stufficated or dragged into the yard. Sonic always knows where rooster lies, and he can fetch it at my request.  While my disgust for the toy has grown exponentially with each cock-a-doodle-do, he delights so much in his chicken that I could not bring myself to deprive him of it.

This morning Pi shook the crow right out of the rooster. The toy's little faux fur body remains intact except  for a slightly worn wing. But, alas, his voice box has been smashed! Rooster will no longer startle me in the darkness when I step on him. I will not be awakened  at 5 a.m. when Sonic decides to snuggle him in the soft morning light right next to my head. The rooster has been de-crowed, if you will.

I gave Pi an extra treat for doing me that little favor. Sonic still totes rooster about seemingly unconcerned about the silence. Perhaps he is glad that the darn thing has stopped crowing too.

Peace! at last! lw

Sonic & Silent Rooster

Amarillo by Morning

When I left Amarillo, I meant it! I didn't miss the flat, brown and yellow landscape. I didn't miss the never ending wind, the 110 degree heat of summer, or the bitter cold of winter. I didn't miss constantly running into someone I knew or who knew my family, everywhere I went.  Leaving gave me anonymity. I liked it. I wasn't going back.

Amarillo is not a bad place by any means. It's a place for families, conservatives, and conformists.  I think it's a great place to be from. Everyone knows a song  or two about Amarillo but most people I am around these days have never been there and never intend to go there. OK by me.

It was not a great place to be perpetually single or, God forbid, a divergent thinker. I was raised there, but  in the end I believe I didn't really belong there. Leaving gave me freedom. I liked that too.

Four years ago, Dad sent me a ticket home. I had not been to Amarillo in 13 years. I had no desire to return and only did at my father's insistence.  I saw two friends but other than that I stuck to family homes and did not venture much. I had no desire to run into ex-boyfriends or bosses,  former students or classmates, or anyone who used to play ball or be in Toastmasters with my dad. I didn't need to talk about my life in Oregon. It was my own business, and I was not sharing.

I will venture back to Amarillo once again this month and my mission is different this time. I want to find everyone I can in one week. I am going to do it this time like I'm not ever coming back. To anyone who knew me in Amarillo: If you have something to tell me, something to show me, or you just want to find out for yourself how the great NW transformed me into a tolerant tree hugger and crazy dog lady, find me. I will answer your questions and tell you the truth.

Peace! lw.