So I’m becoming acquainted with the tasks I’m required to do, the people, the creatures and animals, the uncountable insects, and a pet raven that steals my phone. His name is Oscar, and he’s a menace. No sooner had I arrived, than he’s at my pockets trying to nick things. I make the rookie mistake of leaving my phone on the table and he’s off with it in a heartbeat, flying about the ranch and teasing me with his mischief. I figure I’ll never see it again (which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing) but he gets bored with his new play toy and deposits it close by. Scurrying off, he caws his jest in my direction. Still, when he rests on my shoulder, those nearest and dearest to me will know what it means to have this particular “big fuckin’ bird” sitting there. I can’t wait for pictures when my hair is longer.
I get to know the dogs and cats, but names escape me (largely due to Bulgarian titles), save this bundle of joy called Sparta. He is actually a she, but she’s just got this face to die for. She’s the puppy version of the guard dogs here. All Asian Shepard’s, they’re big, cuddly and friendly, unless you’re a gypsy looking to rustle a horse. Woe betide you then. I always wanted a Siberian Husky when I settled down, but perhaps my opinion might have changed. Oh to hell with it…why not have both?
The animals buzz around the new kid on the block. It makes me smile. They’re so therapeutic. I remember countless days of depression and upset where our dog Jack would toddle over and stick his big face on my knee and with no words ask what was wrong. He could cheer you up in seconds. They just know. Mans best friend right enough.
Day 1
So I’m becoming acquainted with the tasks I’m required to do, the people, the creatures and animals, the uncountable insects, and a pet raven that steals my phone. His name is Oscar, and he’s a menace. No sooner had I arrived, than he’s at my pockets trying to nick things. I make the rookie mistake of leaving my phone on the table and he’s off with it in a heartbeat, flying about the ranch and teasing me with his mischief. I figure I’ll never see it again (which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing) but he gets bored with his new play toy and deposits it close by. Scurrying off, he caws his jest in my direction. Still, when he rests on my shoulder, those nearest and dearest to me will know what it means to have this particular “big fuckin’ bird” sitting there. I can’t wait for pictures when my hair is longer.
I get to know the dogs and cats, but names escape me (largely due to Bulgarian titles), save this bundle of joy called Sparta. He is actually a she, but she’s just got this face to die for. She’s the puppy version of the guard dogs here. All Asian Shepard’s, they’re big, cuddly and friendly, unless you’re a gypsy looking to rustle a horse. Woe betide you then. I always wanted a Siberian Husky when I settled down, but perhaps my opinion might have changed. Oh to hell with it…why not have both?
The animals buzz around the new kid on the block. It makes me smile. They’re so therapeutic. I remember countless days of depression and upset where our dog Jack would toddle over and stick his big face on my knee and with no words ask what was wrong. He could cheer you up in seconds. They just know. Mans best friend right enough.
I’m going to like it here.