When the police ask, and they will, just say I was with you all day. It’s not that I’d mind prison. They have cable TV and someone else does the cooking. But I don’t think they’d let me bring the dogs and my grand kids (probably) wouldn’t want to visit for a week each summer if I lived in Cell Block C. Oh. The reason I could end up in prison without you giving me an alibi is that I married a city boy.
I thought turning him from a city boy to a normal person i.e. country guy would be easy. After all, once he shook the soot of the city off his loafers he’d see just how great not being in a city is and adjust to everything instantly. It turns out I was less right than I usually am.
Sure, he loved learning how to drive a tractor (although I wouldn’t let him drive the big tractor and restricted him to the lawn tractor). And he thought growing vegetables was a pretty good idea and was willing to help (a little) with the garden. But there has been so much more that he’s had trouble adjusting to and I don’t know how much more I can take.
He’s finally stopped rolling down the car window and yelling “Here, Deersy Weersy” whenever we see a herd of deer. Thank goodness. I was getting concerned letters from some of the folks around here. And he no longer worries that the foxes will eat the rabbits and the coyotes may eat the foxes. I think that dog foot we found in the field shocked him into a less Disney view of woodland creatures.
But, until that day in the back with Stu I think he believed that meat is born under cellophane at a grocery store. It may be possible he thought you needed a rooster to get eggs from a hen!
He’s a sweet man and very patient with me. He’s come home to critters and kids that he wasn’t sure weren’t going to end up staying permanently but he’s never tried to throw them (or me) out of the house. He even went along with me getting the ducks and keeping them in the tub.
Unfortunately, that sweetness extends too far. He’s been talking about how he’ll miss the ducks when I (note he leaves himself out of the equation) move them outside in the spring. He says he’s sure they’d be happier in that tub than outside…all alone…vulnerable to the aforementioned woodland creatures. I think he includes those carnivorous rabbits in his visions of Penguin and Spot’s violent end.
And, on top of wanting to keep the ducks in the tub indefinitely, he’s found a new way to “cleverly” display his affection for them. Recently I had him pick up some feeder goldfish for the ducks. The extra protein is good for them and chasing them around the tub gives them exercise. The ducks, not the fish, although I’m sure the fish get some exercise right before being eaten. My darling husband was thrilled that the ducks got so excited about the fish. He wanted to get more fish right away.
Yesterday, our poor son Pete was sent to the pet shop in the next town over. This is a drive!
I wanted Pete to pick up some fish. The Duckfather had asked him to get five dozen! That’s 60..count ‘em…60 goldfish! Knowing my husband didn’t think eating 60 goldfish in one sitting was good for Penguin and Spot I was instantly suspicious.
I had reason to be. His plan was to buy a lot of goldfish and put them in one of the old fish tanks we had from when the kids were young. That way, the ducks could have fish whenever they wanted and no one had to drive all the way to the middle of the next town to get them. Heck! They might even breed in the tank and we could avoid that town altogether!
Pete, being a good son, and a guy, helped pull out the tank. I got to clean the various objects that any good fish tank needs like a plastic mermaid and colored plastic “rocks.” The Duckfather pored over the instructions for setting up the filter. And then Pete was off to buy 5 dozen goldfish! And, of course, he also had to buy food to feed the fish before we feed the fish to the ducks. Are you keeping up?
So now, on my desk, there’s a fish tank packed with fish that have no idea why they’re here. Our well water kills fish in a matter of hours so we used jugs of spring water but we didn’t have enough. So the filter is splashing water back into the tank from the goldfish equivalent of 30 feet above the surface. This not only makes it loud but it forces the food to the bottom of the tank almost instantly. If we don’t get more water the fish will starve before they can be eaten.
The sound of that water splashing down makes me need to run to the bathroom to pee in front of the ducks about every eight minutes. And there’s a fish in that tank the size of a baby bull shark.
I love my husband. I really do. But I think the best thing for both of us is if he has an accident. And that’s why I need you to tell the police I was with you all day. It’s because I married a city boy!