I study my duckling offspring to see if they possess the energy to meet their natural mother. They both stand next to my front paws waiting for me to move so they can trot beside me. As near as I can tell, this is their favorite activity and Mabel will just be window dressing. I hustle over to the gate and flip the latch, walk onto the Cyrus’s property, giving their rambling roses a good sniff, continue to the back door, and swing it open trying not to knock it off its hinges. Me and the ducklings enter the kitchen and give a holler for Cyrus to greet us. A second later, he appears wearing a happy grin. The man is on the floor calling for Bubba and Lester before I can let him know we’re here to see their natural mom, Mabel.
I mosey into the living room and catch a glimpse of Mrs. Cyrus and Mabel rocking in a big chair whispering to the breeze coming through the window. This activity appears to keep them calm but is an eerie sight of two beings traveling in an alternate reality of made-up beauty that exists in a land of big-leafed trees and valleys full of village people and their duckling offspring. Hearts and daisies float through the air adding another dimension to their reality along with turtles astride white horses and undetonated bombs scattered on the ground.
Bubba and Lester peer into the living room looking for their Mastiff Dad. They stare at the two objects in the rocking chair and begin peeping with all they’re worth letting me know anxiety has crept into their tiny bodies over an unfamiliar yet familiar sight that sets them on edge and in need of the lily pond where the easiness of life pacifies their delicate dispositions and penchant for finding solace in the presence of Yours Truly.