For some reason, my entries seem to be sucking lately. I think I've just been out of it and tired, so the interest factor has gone done. I'll work on changing that.

I am now even more convinced that I should never have kids. Why? The past week has been all about the duck and what is wrong and I think my eyeballs are going to pop out of my head from the stress. I can't even begin to imagine how I would act if my kid had a cough or weirdly shaped freckle.

So, yeah, Howie was better for a couple days, but now he's back to not wanting to walk. Oh, I never explained exactly what was wrong with him, did I? That's right. I was scared that writing about it would make me cry.

Well, OK. Howie does not want to walk like a normal duck. He can walk and swim and chase flies (which he does every day), but sometimes he will just flop down. If he wants to move, he does so by moving his feet, but not standing up. Am I explaining this OK? Anyway, everything else is fine. His appetite is normal, he's alert, no wheezing, droppings are plentiful and healthy, he stills humps things when he's feeling frisky. He just doesn't want to walk sometimes. I have to admit, though, that duck has gotten damn good at shuffling or whatever the fuck you want to call it. He can keep up with the hens.

My mom and I have been calling all these poultry expert people, trying to find out what is wrong with him. After hearing the problem and finding out that Howie is a pet, the first question was always "Is he too fat?" I thought that was funny. Cuz he is a bit chubby. Safe chubby, though. Like, high end of normal on the scale. Weight issues aside, no one really seems to know what is wrong with my duck. And this upsets me. Because I love my duck.

Two possible explanations we came up with: One, it's a submission thing. The ducklings outnumber him and are also little bastards. They don't attack him or anything, but sometimes one will start at Howie or do the snake-neck think. Howie will then sit. Two, it's an attention thing. Then again, I'm not sure ducks know what attention is. But, hey, it's a thought.

To counteract all this fretting and obsessing about my duck's well-being, here is a duck story.

A couple days ago, I was sitting at the kitchen table when I hear loud quacking. The quacking was coming from my parent's bedroom. As I am standing up to go shoo the little shits back outside, I see five of them marching in a single file line through the open glass door and into my parent's bedroom.

All of a sudden, it's quiet. Too quiet.

Then, as I am right outside the door. I hear low, soft quacking. The kind Howie makes when he sees a chicken. I walk into the room and see all six of the ducklings standing in front of a floor-length mirror, completely awestruck by the reflection.

Yes, you are correct. The ducklings were trying to woo themselves.

I let them admire themselves for a few more seconds then herded them all outside.

Narcisstic ducks. God.

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