Part 1 & Part 2

My parents are now goose owners. They’re about to go on a trip meaning my sister and I are going to have to share pet sitting duties. Honky is not your average cat or dog…

In the beginning, it was making sure he had a pie plate full of corn and greens and putting him in his crate at night. How does one put a goose in a crate?According to my mom, she lovingly picked him up while he made baby bird sounds while she tucked him in his oversized dog crate t night. The reality is that I chased him around the pool until he bit my vagina. Yes. You read that right. This fucking goose bit my vagina. At that point I no longer cared about being gentle; this monster almost made me sans-gender. I put that mother fucker in his crate so fast and reminded myself that geese were created by Satan himself. SATAN.

The next morning I came to let him out of his crate, feed him and pray I leave an intact woman. I pull of the sheet and he’s making baby sounds. Oooohhh no, sir! You’re not a fallen angel, you’re actually the Devil. I opened the crate and just went on my merry way.

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I brought his dirty pie plate back inside to wash it and refill it. Mom had discovered regular lettuce wouldn’t do. He specifically liked KALE. Expensive fucking KALE. Just what beelzebub ordered. Kale! Satan’s salad. I also had to bring in his dirty towels he had crapped on all night and wash them. I’m not expecting Honky to not have bowel movements, but having to do laundry BY CHOICE everyday is insane. I’m not sure why that seemed like the logical thing to do (or why keeping him in general made ANY sense), but then again here we are. I’m writing, you’re reading. It’s amusing.

Several months later after Honky had settled in beyond all of our expectations; he went on “swimming lessons” with the Canada Geese and never came back. My mom went out in a canoe to look for him…

To be continued…

– MJ

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