Henry the Harried

Henry in sulking recovery from his goose encounter.

I’ve no time for greetings, or even complex sentences.

The geese are now attacking. Beware, beware!

I was just performing the requisite cat saunter from hay shed to pumphouse, only to be violently shocked from my contemplative reverie by the sound of a rapidly approaching goose. For those with highly attuned hearing such as mine, the unique slap-crunch of webbed feet on gravel is a deeply unsettling sound.

I gathered my wits enough to focus on a low, snaking orange bill over my shoulder, only in time to experience its painful pinch on my haunch. The gander goosed me! The nerve!

He proceeded to roughly pummel me, even as I abandoned all dignity and ran, only achieving temporary safety by leaping to the top rail of the fence I often balance on.

The ultimate indignity came in the cacophony that ensued, as all the geese gathered below me and loudly replayed the unfortunate interaction with mocking tones and such hilarity that one goose nearly lost her balance in paroxysms of laughter.

This situation is truly untenable.

In existential crisis,

Henry

Henry the HarriedVoice Narration - Marion Jensen

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