Evidently I have one’a them love-hate relationships with the wee small hours of the morning otherwise why in the world would I have so many ‘chance encounters’.....
What kick-startd this p’ticklar one wuz Rusty the P-dogger who came sniffling ‘round the bedstead with his little conspitorial barks...I heard him but I didn’t respond....hoping, of course, that he’d give up ‘n go back t’sleep but...no luck...next thing, he was scratching at the door ‘n I gave up cuz he wudn’t gonna.....give up, that is....so I fight my way out’a bed, groping for the spectacles ‘n stumble to the door....find his leash cuz we’ve had nocturnal visitors, y’know....the odiferouse ones ‘n I didn’t want a repeat of t’other nite when I had to draw the old P-dogger a bath in the middle of the nite...anyways, we go outside where I gaze at the full moon while he sniffs around under the orange tree....no skunky odor t’be found cuz the Bird with the broken wing has scattered a package of moth balls ‘round ‘n about...bet you didn’t know that skunks evidently don’t like the scent of moth balls, did’ya.....well, I don’t know that for sure either but they do seem to work ‘n we’ve used them for years ev’ry time the pesky, stinky little cats come around.....I think they come for the chicken eggs so they’re kind of a double-edged thing....they help to curtail the chicken population which is a good thing but the pleasure of their company wears thin in a New York minnit...too bad the moth balls don’t work on the darn chickens....I was thinking of using a blow-up pic of a Fair Oaks rooster with a target super-imposed but I might get denounced in the Senate.....
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