Don't Fear the Rooster

Let's see, how best to describe the week that was? I was a bit under the gun and irate was with me and I had a few really odd angry moments. I also had some really deeply relaxing and pleasant moments. Monday I ran around the little cemetery in Nooksack while Pearl attended dance class at her school next door. I studied the headstones, even cleaned up one or two of them up when I saw that moss had begun to inhabit the engraved names and dates. The spot where the cemetery sits is secluded, above the Breckenridge Creek, it faces south east. The clouds were rolling around, the rain was intermittent. Occasionally a tear would develop in the clouds and the sun would appear. I considered reserving a plot and thought about what my headstone might say.

Had some bad dreams that night. Mostly about death.

Tuesday was uneventful. I got in 10 billable hours, pretty good for a school day.

Wednesday the rooster jumped on me when I leaned down to pour the grain into the feeder. I stood up, kicked at him, yelled a few very colorful obscenities and called my new friend Ralph, the taxidermist. He came over later that day, around the time the chickens have tucked themselves in for night. Ralph and I stood and chatted casually as he emptied the roosters lungs of air. I watched him draw his last breath and gave Ralph a dozen eggs for his trouble. My only regret, when the rooster is returned to me in his stuffed state, will be that I didn't like him more on a personal level, but god he was gorgeous.