The 8-year-old princess girl has been on a real rampage to salvage the world. The princess would make Sally Struthers look like a cold-hearted grinch. She’s determined to rescue the world from all ill whether it be starving babies in Africa, dogs who appear to be crying on the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animal commercials or frogs trapped in our pool filter system. “Look Daddy, that poor frog has lost his family. We need to put him under a tree so he can find his family.”
To this end, the princess was mesmorized to find that a pair of Canadian geese were nesting at the small pond behind my father’s house and soon baby geese were born. She discovered where the baby geese were hiding and decided to bring the family down to the pond to view her extraordinary discovery.
Unfortunately, Patton, the 100-pound black German shephard family pet, decided to go along. Patton does not share the princess’s concern for all living creatures and promptly stormed the baby geese, picking one up in his mouth and taking off.
The princess was mortified and chased down the dog, forcing him to relinquish the injured baby goose. Princess took the baby goose, brought it in the house, prepared him an appropriate box and announced that she would nurse the goose back to health. She named this goose Sugar and called me at the office to announce that we had a new pet goose named Sugar.
You can imagine my thrill to know that in addition to four dogs, two cats, three horses, a donkey and a multitude of gold fish that I could now add to the collection a goose named Sugar.
When I arrived to pick the princess up at my parents’ house after work, she excitedly took me down to the utility room to show me Sugar. Sugar was cold, limp and most decidedly dead.
I told the princess that I did not think Sugar had made it, but she refused to believe the goose was dead. She immediately insisted we should pray for the goose and that God could cure whatever may ail it. She remembered well that all hope had been given up for Puddy, her cat, yet she prayed vigorously and the cat recovered. I’ve seen men walking down death row less hysterical than she.
I told the princess that we needed to bury the goose but she would have none of it. She begged that we wait until the morning, just in case he was still alive. I begrudgingly was about to agree when the 7-year-old hurricane boy came storming into the picture.
The hurricane, exhibiting no signs that he will be on any Sally Struthers advertisements soon, said, “Get real. We need to bury that goose now. She’ll be stinking by in the morning and nobody will want to bury her then.”
This comment lead to a tirade from the princess, who questioned hurricane’s faith in God, his compassion and his right to call her his sister any further.
The hurricane was unfazed, commenting that if the goose had any sense he would have stayed in the water and besides there was seven more baby geese down at the pond anyway.
Nevertheless, I relented and the goose remained at the house until the next day when he was ceremoniously, albeit slightly smelly, buried beside the pond. After a tearful goodbye, the princess announced that God must have needed a baby goose and she is certain that Sugar is with him right now.
I’m not sure if Sugar is with God or not. I’m not sure I’ll see God, but I am trying. I am sure the princess already knows God and if she wants Sugar in heaven, I imagine he’ll have her there for her. As for the hurricane, I better enroll him in another summer Bible school.
Contact columnist T. Gamble at firstname.lastname@example.org.