I’m Tired of Looking at Water…

The Big River, which runs through it (my backyard, I mean) is very close to spilling over its banks.  It won’t, I’m reasonably reassured, but I’m tired of looking at it rush by on its way to the Gulf of Mexico.  I’m tired of hearing it.  Tired of escorting the dogs outside four times a day because I’m afraid, because of their walnut-sized brains, that they will get a sudden urge to tip their toes in it and thus end up in the Gulf of Mexico.  I’m tired of listening to the older of my dogs, Sylvia, sitting on the back of the couch and growling non-stop all day at the debris she sees floating down the river–Is that a goat?  Ggggrrrrr.  Is that…is that a dead body of a meth lab employee?  Ggggggrrrrr!

Oh well, I suppose it could be worse.  I could be sitting here in the house as the Big River actually flows through it.

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About John F.D. Taff

John F.D. Taff is a writer, published author, raconteur and wrangler of angry stoats. He has more than 80 short stories and 7 novels published. He lives in the great, unspoiled vastness of the Midwest. He has a tremendous wife named Debbie, three pugs, Sadie, Tovah and Muriel, and three great kids--Harry, Sam and Molly. View all posts by John F.D. Taff

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