Friday, May 25, 2012

white meat

Last night I spent 4 hours at the park between Mr. T's soccer game (tied) and Mr. G's coach pitch game (tied).  (Poor Mr. B had to hitch a ride to his scrimmage in another town since Mr. D was coaching.  He's still making me feel guilty about that.)  The winds were gusting at a balmy 37 MPH and I tethered myself to the turf to watch the excitement.  Fortunately I wasn't blinking the sand from the baseball infield out of my eyes the entire night, just for half of it.

At the soccer game the one lady brought her extremely hostile dog like she always does.  What's with the little dogs being so obnoxiously loud and aggressive?  It's like the canine version of Short Man's Disease--they're always jonesing for a fight, talking big and getting in your face.  Our 60-pound mutt, on the other hand, barks once approximately every 85 days.  He's passive and only lunges towards food or cars.  Anyway, I clung to my lawn chair while Yippy growled and complained a few feet to my right, lunging towards the field, tenuously held back by a leash.  Why do people insist on bringing animals like that out in public?  This dog's been on the sidelines for years, so it's obvious that this method of socialization isn't getting anywhere.  (Yes, I confess to indulging in a few fantasies, like Jax eating Yippy in one bite, or a bald eagle swooping down to eat Yippy in one bite.  Or me stepping on Yippy, silencing him forever.  Shut up.  Even the most devout dog lover would agree that this beast has no redeeming quality.  I speculate this dog's half AM talk radio host and half demon.)

I digress.  Yippy annoyed me but the barn swallows were pure entertainment.  Like Blue Angels, they swooped and divebombed the turf, eating bugs and demonstrating how aerodynamic they could be in 37 MPH winds.  I envied them while I spat strands of hair out of my mouth.

Then I noticed a couple of girls approaching the game to my left.  One cradled something in her arms--a baby? I wondered...  But it looked pretty small to be a baby.  And no one in their right mind would bring a 5 pound preemie out in this wind without a blanket. 

Two of the skinniest legs and feet stuck straight up and then I wondered if the girl wasn't carrying one of those practice babies they give you in school to scare kids straight about using birth control and abstinence.  But no, the legs seemed to move.  Or get tossed around by the wind.  A couple of other people approached to look at what the girl cradled in her arms--their response assured me that whatever it was, it was alive.  No one would spend that much time admiring a baby doll. 

Wait a minute!  It occurred to me that this girl might have a pet monkey.  That would explain the size and the freakishly thin legs and long toes.  A pet monkey--that would be something to see! 

I was too far away to get a clear view from my spot where I'd staked myself in the grass, so I leaned back and pretended to stretch.  Still couldn't see it very well so I uprooted myself and took a few casual paces around my lawn chair (which blew over the second I stood up). 

I shit you not, I nearly fell over when I realized what the girl had brought to the soccer game (and not because a gust of 47 MPH directed it's full impact at me).  She set it down on the ground and sat next to it, petting it's back.

Just when I thought I'd seen it all.  That girl had brought a pet chicken to the soccer game.

Thank goodness she was sitting upwind of Yippy.  I know how Jax would've behaved, catching a whiff of a chicken dinner.  I think he'd even bark to say, "Pass the mashed potatoes."

You bet I gave Jax an extra scoop of kibble when I came home after last night's games--just to our good dog some extra appreciation.

29 comments:

  1. I don't even know what to say to this. Teenage girls are strange? I will probably chuckle about the chicken for the rest of the morning and then think of something really witty to say at about 3 PM.

    Happy weekend!

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  2. A pet chicken, pet monkey, pet what? What's wrong with people. That's just not normal is it? I mean to be so attached to a chicken that you take it along to a ball game? It's a chicken for frickin sakes!!! Leave it at home to lay eggs.

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    1. I doubt attachment is what made those teenage girls bring a chicken (poor thing) to a ballgame. Bless their utterly brainless teenage heads--they got the reaction they were seeking. And if it HAD been a premie? They'd have brought it along. Not to tar all adolescents with the same brush, of course--but you've seen TeenMom, right?

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  3. I like cats because they can stay home alone.

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  4. I hate yippy little dogs. They make me want to fling them against the wall as hard as I can.

    Cats. Cats are good. They don't make much noise and can be trusted to stay home on their own.

    A chicken in every pot.

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  5. A pet chicken!
    Wow. That's...something.
    Somebody really wanted a pet. But the chickens I've known wouldn't really enjoy a baseball game.
    Life is so weird!

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  6. Ooooohh-Kaaayyy!

    Lol@ 'A chicken in every pot'!

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  7. Little yippie dogs are the worst! The wind was crazy yesterday--I swear I saw a bird almost do a loop while trying to fly off the road--and squirrels were everywhere (wind must have made them all abandon ship).

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  8. Ugh. I'll take a big dog any day. They have more sense, in general. However, I am fond of pugs. They get an exemption from annoying/yippy/dogs categories.

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  9. hmmmm. a pet chicken. i may have to use this story next time my husband starts complaining about my love/need/dependence on having cats and dogs....

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  10. I think maybe the combined hundred+ pounds of canine currently passed out on the floor are due for a little extra kibble, too, for simply not being Yippy.

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  11. A chicken? Well, that beats the baby goat I saw at the dentist's office one day.

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  12. Well, at least your hours in the park weren't boring, huh? :-) I've heard of farm kids feeling sentimental toward a chicken, but I'd think they'd have enough sense not to bring it out to the park.

    Those winds yesterday were amazing! We lost one large and 50 million small branches! And apparently the local gas station is a wind tunnel, because I was literally (literally!) blown over while pumping gas.

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  13. A pet chicken???????????? Teenage girls what can I say teenage girls can be so strange

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  14. Bratty dogs like bratty kids - "parents" just can't see it :(

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  15. WTH!?! Is she nuts? A chicken!

    I'm scratching my head at that one. And I love how you told this story.

    xo jj

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  16. Now that's some crazy pants.

    I hate little yippy dogs. They should be banned.

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  17. oh my gosh...where do you live? the little league parents around here are crazy...they could never be bothered with a chicken distraction! they are too worried about their 9 yr old sons future college scholarship.

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  18. My stepdad called yippy little dogs "squeak toys for real dogs." 'Tis true.

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  19. "half AM talk radio host and half demon" -- so accurate, so funny! Oh, wait, you were describing the dog. I thought you were talking about soon-to-be-former Governor Walker.

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  20. love Jen @ JL's term!

    My ex said "French Footballs" for a certain sort...

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  21. awwww! the chicken wanted to have some fun, too.

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  22. I starting humming that crazy jingle, "I feel like chicken tonight, like chicken tonight!"

    Now THAT is some crazy shit! A chicken? I would have liked to seen the chicken and wild dog go at it. Not that I condone dog fights, but a chicken/dog fight? Now THAT would have been interesting!

    BTW, I was sent over here by Theresa from The Middle Side of Life to enter into her giveaway for your book! If it's anything like this post, I really want to win!

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  23. LOL---wonderful! I can't stop laughing.

    And Yippy is prolly a reflection on her owner. Loud and obnoxious. ;-)

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  24. I'm entering to win a copy of Whipped, Not Beaten, on Teresa's blog The Middle Side of Life! Also, I adore your voice in your writing!

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  25. My son had a game Thursday night when it was really dry and windy. It was like sitting in a sand storm.

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  26. Little yippy dogs should be illegal. Especially chihuahuas.

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Spill it, reader.