I’m not half the man my mother is.
My momma is my hero. She is the ideal to which I strive. She is the vanquisher of metronome dogs.
This morning the Mother of All Evils and her three loud puppies were serenading the neighbourhood from our back yard again. I buried my head in my pillow and did my best to sleep through it. My mother, however, did not take it lying down. She threw dirt clods at them. She scored several direct hits. When that failed to drive the dogs away she took further action.
She marched across the backyard Dirtscape (it’s under construction), grabbed the puppies by the scruffs of their necks and tossed them on their merry ways. This while the mother dog was cringing across the creek. One of the puppies had poked its head into a crack in the boundary wall. After a good tug it came out with a audible –pop- and a yelp (much like a barking wine-cork) and sent packing.
My mother, being the brave and slightly nutty woman that she is, then kicked the dog’s new burrow in and threw a few more dirt clods for good measure.
My hero. I’m not half the man my mother is…