No harm, no fowl

“My work here is never done…”

Spring is here and it’s beautiful dog walking weather. I love being outside with the family, proudly walking our crazy, loud, barking, pulling, misbehaved, and foraging boychik (little boy) and grabbing some extra vitamin D. Something I’ve noticed since Gatsby arrived to rescue our family, we constantly come across what seems to me, to be a gratuitous amount of chicken bones. Legs, wings, breasts, thighs… you name it and Gatsby will find them. One can only begin to understand my love for this furry family member, as I extract his foul, fowl finds from deep within the clenches of his canines. Disgusterous, as the BFG would say.

I would not be surprised at all, to find that our building and the surrounding homes, were built atop what was once, some sort of chicken cemetery. If you just go by the gross numbers of very gross bones per walk, per day — something just doesn’t add up. Storms, wind, digging, and these bones surface.  It’s haunting in a ‘Carol Ann, don’t go near the light’ kind of way. Often we, and by we, I mean Gatsby, finds grilled chicken breasts. There is often an assortment of accompanying sauces. And dare I say it, side dishes. WTF? Has Colonel Sanders gone AWOL? Has Frank Perdue gone cuckoo?

What if there is a chicken serial killer on the loose? And my Gatsby, with a nose for a nice nosh (little something to snack on), can’t help but uncover truth and justice for all. Law and Order: Poultry, live, right here in my neighborhood. The Capon Capers. Benson and Stabler, I need you here at Johnson and Greene, and bring that trained squad of detectives that focus primarily on putrid poultry misconduct.

Keeping my glass half-full, it is possible that we are constantly on the same frigging, filthy path as some unfortunate young travelers, who leave behind banty, barnyard fowl bones and scraps to find their way back home, like Hansel and Gretel. My Gatsby, sweet little man, is probably just doing his best sleuthing in an effort to help these lost kinder (children)?

“I smell chicken…”

It is possible that while wearing my pollyanna, rose-tinted sunglasses, someone is leaving behind the cock-a-doodle-doo trail until we find the magic wishbone? Gatsby’s mania for mystery may be a search the answers to our dreams? My lanky, long-legged, detective dog, is just trying his best to look out for our family. What a good boy!

You see, in my heart of hearts, I don’t want to believe that my neighborhood has gone afoul in dreck (trash, litter). Thankfully, after a year now, I can sternly let out a geshrei (scream) for Gatsby, “Drop it!” and he does. So does everyone else around me… maybe that’s why there are so many bones? Oy vey! (OMG!)

And this Yiddish Proverb, words to live by, if you are Gatsby:

A chicken dinner is best shared by two people. Me and the chicken. A hindl mitog iz bester sherd durkh tsvey mentshn. Mir aun di hindl.

What a good boy!

     

      

     

      

 

My morning Boy

Umm, hello? Are we going outside, or what?

Shana punim (beautiful face)

Who could say no to this face?

You know there is a Yiddish proverb for Gatsby:

Lozn a hunt aoyf a shtul aun er vet shpringen afn tish.  Allow a dog on a chair and he’ll jump on the table.

 

The Great Gatsby

“I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.”
“I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

No dear friends, this is not the one by Fitzgerald. Not a cast of characters living in lavish mansions in the fictional town of West Egg, Long Island. No prosperity, debutantes, elaborate parties, or even idealism.

Our Great Gatsby, he does have many parallels. He is quixotic as his namesake, contains obsessions by us humans of our furry, four-legged boychik (little boy) and his unconditional love of us, decadence, after all, he is the boy king in our little apartment castle, and he holds the American Dream of finding love. And as for the cast of Characters, you have me, the Mrs., Big and Little, living life in the Manor and working our asses off to reclaim our slice of the pie.

“If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him.”
“If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
"My life has got to be like this, it's got to keep going up."
“My life has got to be like this, it’s got to keep going up.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
“I wasn’t actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.”
“I wasn’t actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.”
“I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

Handle every stressful situation like a therapist. If you can’t eat or play with it, pee on it and walk away.  Shepn yeder stressful situatsye vi a terapist. Aoyb ir kenen nisht esn oder shpiln mit im, nor pi aoyf es aun geyn avek.

Gatsby, our little rescue boy, saved us as well.

In dog we trust.

 

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