For Christmas a few years back, my brother gave me a taxidermied (read – stuffed) pintail duck that he had shot. While it’s a fine specimen, not being a duck hunter I initially failed to see the correlation between a dead duck and something that I would actually want.
That said, I hung the duck in the living room of my bachelor pad and he’s remained there, suspended as the centerpiece of the decor from that day to this one. And during that time I’ve actually become rather fond of that duck. It might be because he sits in such a way that he faces directly at me when I take my customary seat on the couch. Or perhaps it’s because on some lonely occasions I’ve even held surprisingly banterish, albeit mostly one-side conversations with Henry.
Oh yeah, I named him.
In fact just the other day he looked me in the eye and expressed to me his concern about losing his place of prominence in the living room once Laura moves in and ‘redecorates.’ I told him not to worry; I’d just switch places on the couch with Laura, giving him a whole year to stare at her, pleadingly, breaking her down with his brown, puppy-duck eyes.
At that, I’m pretty sure he gave me the slightest grin, nod and wink.
Those stuffed animals sure are lifelike!
One Comment
So now I know why you are more than happy to let me sit on “your” end of the couch….. 😉