Wait! I have a story….

I have had several people asking me for my next blog. Ok… two. Two people have asked.  So without further ado…

Here’s a little ditty about Jack and Diane, except there is no Jack or Diane and it is really about a goose. (That’s for you Megan!)

One fine fall day, a few years back, I was stopped a traffic light on a busy avenue and discovered an injured wild Canadian goose.  She was in the parking lot of a mall and her wing was hanging way too low, not to be hurt.  It just looked all wrong, even from a distance.  Now being the animal lover, you all love and adore, I did a good deed and pulled over to give her a look see and see what I could do. Well, by God, her wing was obviously broken. What does one do with a goose with a broken wing? I knew that I needed to act quickly, but I also had to think ‘er through a little. Ok Wendy, now think…

Thought #1-  Can she fly?  Well I moved a little closer to her, you know, rushed her a little and asked in a booming voice, “Hey? can you fly?”.   She took a few steps back, but  for the most part, she stayed put. If a bird could fly they would have left, so I assumed that flying was not an option for her.  Poor little goose.

Thought #2-  What on earth should I do with her?  I can’t just leave her here.  How long will it take for animal control take to get to her after I call?  Will she get tired and waddle off in the mean time?  Will she wander out in traffic and get run over?  Eek! That won’t work.

Thought #3-  I know! There is a Wildlife Center a few miles away, I mean they take in squirrels and raccoons, surely they will take a goose.  I can totally take her there.  I can totally save her!  It is the obvious choice. Transport her there, but how?  Will she actually fit in the back of a 1996 Geo Tracker? Sure. Well?  Hmm… I guess we’ll see!

Thought #4- Today I am definitely going to get the crap kicked out of me by a goose!

After explaining step by step of the goose saving plan that I had quickly formulated for her, to her, I jumped into action. Now on a side note, a Wild Canadian goose is a bit more intimidating than one would expect for a 10, maybe 12, pound bird. To be honest, I did have a bit of a Holy Crap this is NUTS moment, but after telling the goose the plan, I felt pretty committed.  Before I chickened out, I opened the back hatch of the Tracker, mentally judging if I could really get her in there or not.  I then slowly tiptoed over to stand nonchalantly next to her, “no need to worry Mrs. Goose. I am just here to watch the traffic, just like you. No, no. I assure you it is perfectly normal for a person to stand this close to you. I really like gooses, I had some when I was little.” The whole time, I knew that she was judging me. Watching. Waiting. Knowing at any moment she could go into a rage and rip me to shreds, or at the very least bite my leg pretty hard.

Like a goose hunting ninja, I took a deep breathe, then BOO YAH! I had her scooped up, one arm around her body (minding the broken wing) and the other hand trying to cover her beak and eyes.  Quick as lightning, she never even saw me coming.  In a big cloud of flying feathers, her feet spinning and some incredibly foul words being aimed at me and my mother, I pitched her into the back of the car and slammed the door shut.  Ha HA! I did it! I nearly peed my pants, but SHUT UP! I totally just wrangled a wild animal!  I am awesome! “Oh!” Remembering my task, I jumped into the driver’s seat, shifted the Tracker into gear, stretched my arm across to block her from tearing off my ear and off we went… for about a block.

Whoop WHOOP!  AACK!  The police!  I was politely being asked to stop my vehicle.  Now?Of all times, this was definitely not the best time to be pulled over by the police.  Dude!  Can’t you see that I have a crazed goose in the back seat and am clearly on a mission?  I stopped the car as the officer approached, I could see by his face, that he understandably had a few questions for me. He was nice and asked how my day was going and what I was doing. So I re-hashed the whole seeing the injured bird thing and explained the thoughts that I had had on the subject and how I was taking her to get medical care at the Operation Wildlife Center “right up the street”.  Now while he didn’t actually say it out loud, I could tell that he was incredibly impressed with my goose wrangling skills. What he did actually say out loud, was that it is incredibly illegal to move a Canadian goose from their natural migration route and it is, in fact, a Federal Crime, so I needed to get her out of my car immediately. Hmmm… how could have I been so drastically wrong about his awe over my obvious skills?

At first, it seemed that we were at an impasse, I wanted to take to her and he wanted, just a little bit, to arrest me if I did.  After a little more discussion and above the racket of a squawking goose, we both decided that the best plan was to move the goose from my car to the back of his squad car for her safe keeping, while he called someone to come get her. Sounded completely reasonable (and cheaper than bail). By- the- by, it turns out that shoving a stunned 10 pound goose into a car was WAY easier than pulling a pissed-off  goose back out, what, with all of the honking and the biting and the ungodly beating with her one good wing, it took both of us to first shoo her out one door and then try to herd into another, quite unsuccessfully I might add. So we stood around chatting,  not arresting me and kept an eye out until her “actual” help arrived.  Then she was gone.

In the end, *the bird was so happy that I stopped to help, **she was transported by the proper authorities to get the proper care, ***everything went smoothly and with great ease,  ****I had done a good deed,  *****And a few days later I was told the great news that HOORAY! her wing was healing and would be released back into the wild, just as soon as she was ready. My good deed was quite the success.

It’s true. I am a helper, sent by the angels. I always figured so.


* i didn’t literally scared to death from a heart attack, ** I did not just take off with her and get arrested or cause a police chase, *** I had the living crap beaten out of me with one wing, multiple bruises from the biting and was nearly deaf for 2 days, ****I felt like a complete ass for making so much trouble, when I should have just left her alone, ***** I called like 20 times a day until someone finally called me back, just to shut me up.



A morning of a girl or whatever…

If you will, please join me in a walk through my morning… I was snoozing so peacefully, snuggled into my blankies, when this happened…

7:38 AM

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Got a bright and early wake up call this morning from Orlando Florida! Yay! Somebody loves me! I wondered who was calling me from Orlando? Wait a tick! It took at least 3 rings until I realized that I didn’t actually know anyone in Florida. Stupid Florida. Stupid telemarketers. Why on earth are they even up already? It’s like 6:30 in the morning there.

7:40 AM

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I stretched and yawned and decided that maybe I could drift back to sleep. I rolled over to settle back in and get comfortable when I realized that I couldn’t move my legs. Dear God! I. Am. Paralyzed. When did that happen? No. No it’s fine. It’s just Cat. So I shuffled my feet a little, in hopes that he would move and that I could still grab a little more sleep. Stupid cat! I don’t want to play with you, stop biting my feet. FINE. I’m up.

7:50 AM


COFFEE! It is not a well known fact, but I can actually fill the coffee pot with one eye closed.  (It’s a hell of a talent that I must have inherited from past relative.) I stood there not moving and stared blankly at the coffee pot, trying to wake up and desperately trying to remember what I had planned for the day. Jam. I am going to make jam today. Should I make jam? Will we even eat a lot of jam? Holy crap! The coffee is already done. Good Lord, how long had I been standing there? Oh well… COFFEE!

8:00 ish… AM


Yes. I am going cut up some fruit for breakfast….

8:02 AM


Nope. It was just to daunting. So back in the fridge it went. Who needs breakfast anyway? There is always tomorrow. I need to let the dogs out anyway.

8:05 AM


You twit dogs, seriously it’s just a cup of coffee. You are too little to drink coffee in the mornings. How many times have I told you? Here I’ll just set my cup down for a moment…now get outside for pees and poops before the cat escapes…



Damn it! What did I just say? So I guess I had better retrieve the cat out of the backyard. Cat retrieving did not go well, after running around the backyard repeatedly saying “Just get back in the house, Cat” like a lunatic on auto twitter, I had to get the hose out. (To spray the cat, not to flog on the cat.) I finally got the cat safely back in the house, with no help from the mutts and only a few stares from the neighbor.

8:35 ish.. AM


AAhhh…finally time for a little break! I am able to relax on the patio with the cold cup of coffee I poured a half an hour ago.

After an hour of accomplishing nothing, but doing much, I realize that it is a good thing that no one is following me around with GPS. It would look like one of those old Family Circus cartoon strip. The one with Billy’s maps, with all of the arrows and lines jumbled all over the map. Remember those? (For you youngsters, that’s an old print cartoon out of the newspaper, look it up.)

Until next time…I am sure you will be waiting with bated breath to hear the musings of a girl or whatever.

It’s my first time and I’m a little nervous….

Obviously I am new to the World of Blog, so let’s just see how badly I can mess this up, shall we?

First of all let myself introduce… myself?

“Once upon a time a man and a woman fell in love.” Ummm… maybe let’s not go that far back.

My name is Wendy, I have never written a blog, have barely read a blog and the word blog makes me giggle. I have a small but comfortable home that I share with my 2 dogs, an orange cat and a darling husband that keeps us all in line. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it, thankfully he signed up. We live in a suburb of Kansas City on the Kansas side. Go ahead and make your Toto jokes …I’ll wait. There. Feel better? Anyway, as I was saying, we do live in Kansas and surprise, surprise we farm. Well, to be fair I should probably say that we “farm”. Well, to be fair I should probably say that I use the term FARM very loosely. Ok FINE! I have a couple of gardens in the backyard. But in my heart it is a “farm”. No matter what you call it, I am still the bane to my neighbors existence.

My Darling rebuilds and restores old motorcycles, we have like 50 in the garage. He won’t let my ride any of them, heck, he doesn’t even ride anymore. We basically have lookin-at bikes. Can you believe that? Lookin-at- bikes. Now, don’t be jealous, we also have a garage that floods at the mere mention of rain, a back patio that slants at a really odd angle and really old trees that like to fall over. I swear to you, the lightest of breezes and I go into a complete panic, we have trees that Just. Fall. Over.

Let’s see what else. Oh I work in the veterinarian world, but I won’t tell you what I do in it. It’s a secret. I mean, come on, we should keep a little bit of mystery in our relationship, shouldn’t we? I’ll just say that I have been doing, what I do, for 11 or so years and still love every moment of it. The educating, the treating, the playing with puppies and kitties all day, oh and the scrubs wearing. Scrubs! It’s like being in pajamas all day, everyday! Pure bliss.

I have stories! Grab a cuppa tea, a cuppa Joe. Come back and kick back and have a listen to the musings of a girl or whatever…..