Crawfish

Her rattletrap Ford died in Austin, Texas on July 9, 1975. She wandered the bars on 6th Street until she found a fellow musician willing to loan a couch to crash on for a few days. Her new friend took her to a spot down by the river where a waiter dumped a bucket of crawfish on a piece of butcher paper in the middle of their table. She stared at the mess. She was supposed to eat that?

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Cats

I admire cats. Their independence. Their self-sufficiency. Of course if you have one confined to your house, they want to be fed. But if they got out the door one day, dinner wouldn’t be hard to find for them. As a pet, they aren’t demanding.

I don’t want one – don’t get me a cat – but I admire them.

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Dogs

My position on dogs is not a popular one. I know they are loyal and friendly. I guess I don’t need a lot of loyal and friendly, because I find dogs pretty uninteresting. They take a lot of work – the kind of work I’d rather not give. I’m glad you love you dog like one of your children. Good for you. But I don’t want a fur child.

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Grasshopper

We called her Grasshopper because she outpaced us by two. She’d get where we were going, look around, come back to fetch us and go again with the slowpokes. She’d rush off on side trips to see things we’d miss and rejoin us down the path a few minutes later. I was convinced she had twice as much fun as anyone else.

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Good Night

All I want is one good night. One morning when I wake up rested. One day when I don’t feel exhausted by everything I do. I could have that if you would come by my place and remove the 3 dogs who live here. Somewhere there is someone who would love 3 yippy dogs. Just not right here. Please.

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Fred

The backyard is home to about 25 turtles. My favorite is Fred. He’s (she?) been around the longest and is the biggest. This summer, he measures about 6″ in diameter and is easy to spot out there among the zucchini vines and tomato plants. It’s the little guys who are only an inch or so in diameter this year that you have to watch out for. But Fred, he’s Mr. Muscle around the yard.

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Bishop

His name is Bishop and he lives across the street. He uses the front step as a soapbox. He stands out there for hours every day, making pronouncements to the universe that includes houses on every side of his. I’m not sure what he’s talking about. I don’t speak his language. But his voice is hard to block out. It would be better if it were a bass note, a deep arf. But it’s a high pitched yip. Yip, yip, yip. All day. Bishop has a lot to say.

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Jumping Jack

We called him Jumping Jack because he spent more time going straight up in the air than he did going forward. He would leap atop the car, the shed, over fences. He could grab the leaves off the tallest tree. Nothing seemed too high for our goat, until the day of the big  . . .

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Elephant

I must figure out the idea of elephants as a symbol of my life. So many elephants have stomped across my line of vision lately. Figuratively, of course. I don’t have actual elephants in my living room. Is it something about strength, memory, empathy? I’m sure it’s a message from the universe, but what is the message?

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Did you see?

Did you see the dogs playing with an old sock?
Did you see the sunrise?
Did you see the raindrops run down the windowpane?
Did you see the Milky Way?
Did you see the children swinging in the park?
Did you see the daisy bloom?

Did you see it? Life still worth living – did you see it?

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