It’s not me looking for a mate you understand, nor any of the others normally resident here. It’s Donald. In this case, the duck rather than the president. It’s the time of year when the village ducks pair up, select someone’s garden and settle down to have a family. They don’t usually bother that much with our garden as they’ve worked out that never mind there being four dogs, one Shadow is quite enough to put them off. Donald however seems to be a little confused. He has clearly got his eye on one of the ladies and doesn’t want any other male duck getting in the way. That includes the one in our porch window. Of course, the one in our porch window is actually Donald mark 2 being reflected in the glass. That does not stop Donald from squawking at him to try to frighten him off. So far he has failed, but it’s not for want of trying.
With Mickey and Minnie in the loft and Donald on the drive this house turns into more of a cartoon every day. It does make me wonder which persona I would take on. I see myself as a sort of Road Runner, but in reality that’s more Wilma. Alfie’s a sort of Deputy Dawg. Shadow is probably Top Cat, though she won’t thank me for saying so. Our Mistress has always been Muttley due to the way she laughs on occasions, which just leaves me. Maybe I could be Scooby Doo. Of course our Master would either be Winnie the Pooh or Eeyore depending on what day it is. I wonder what a cartoon would be like if all of those appeared together. In the meantime Donald is still by the front door confused at why he can’t frighten himself away.
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