'Baker?
Do we know this mouse in the bottom of the oven eating cat feed?
Hmm?'


   

Conversation beside a large hole in the ground ...

'Bobo. We forgot the groundhog trap.'

'I mean ... We forgot the new, extremely comfy groundhog-size bedroom addition we were going to build on to the house.'  

  

It's a terrible thing, Bobo tells me time and again, for a dog to smell another dog, and not be able to sniff him. 

Just down the road. And by that I mean, between a field of corn and a cow barn, is a parrot, hanging from a walnut tree.

Every hole in my backyard is filled with a baby something.


  

I made Baker a little salad today. Three leaves. Spinach.
He was polite, but made it clear that this should probably not happen again.

I washed a nickel for you.
Dried it, too.

I saw a limpy squirrel cross the street today. In a crosswalk. Behind four children. 

A crossing guard with white gloves, a silver whistle and a stop sign held high above her head waved them right along, as if it were just another day.

And it might have been.