I get up this day and try to wake up. I am still sleepy. I sit on the couch amongst all my animals, cozy inside. It is cold and overcast today, a grey grey day, no shadows I can see, even under the patio beam at the wall or under the patio table, an even grey grey all over. The lion fountain is mum, his water being turned off for the night. The goldfish and mosquito eater fish in the pool are invisible from the couch.
Inside, Victor the sculptured greyhound is looking outside through his glass eyes waiting patiently without barking for the sun to come out, one foot raised and bent in anticipation.
The twin bronze hares from Thailand are staring at me in tandem, their big ears straight up as if to say accusingly but wordlessly about the grim day, "You did this."
The six-inch unmoving turtle is looking outside through the glass door, ready to move when there's something to move about but definitely not talkative.The concrete-casted coyote pup waits by the sliding door looking out, face raised to howl soundlessly or to see when the overcast will succumb to the sun, ready to make his move.
The brightly painted Mexican papier-mache parrot with his beautiful tail and folded wings is on his perch with an American flag, looking over his shoulder at me with a beady eye, claws gripping his bar as if to say inaudibly, "Why not now?"
The white furry kitty with pink ribbon around her neck is close behind my right shoulder on the couch, looking questioningly at me when I turn to look at her.
The wooden cat on the small table between the two barrel chairs crouches in a sphinx-like position facing me says speechlessly, "What now, boss?"
A metal serpent on top of the Korean chest by itself silently winds its way around a candle stick in perpetuity.
The carved walrus from Alaska is sitting on four CD's by Roy's chair surveying the situation mutely.
The Steuben frog on the shelf above the walrus is hunkered down as he has been for years and years, voiceless.
The papier-mache yellow bird on top of the keyboard/bookshelves is overlooking the whole room with unsung songs from his papier-mache vocal cords.
I live with a silent menagerie, just bursting to communicate!
Me, or them?
I'm awake now after this little amusing exercise. It's still overcast, though.
Miss Peach
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