Since I have filled the blog this week with lightweight fluff, given Max's stem cell infusion and all, I thought it was time for a deep, meaningful post.
There we were in Raleigh's beautiful Sarah Duke Gardens. Max was having a blast doing meet-and-greets with various dogs. And then, in the distance, I spotted them.
No, I thought. That man could not possibly be walking a DUCK.
But, yes, he was.
Max dashed right up to them; six-year-olds are fantastic ice-breakers.
Me (at a loss for saying anything remotely intelligent): "Is that your pet?"
Duck guy: "Yes!"
Me (still at a loss for saying something intelligent): "Is it common for people here to have pet ducks?"
Duck guy, shrugging sheepishly: "No, it's pretty rare."
Me: "How long have you had him?"
Duck guy: "Since he was two weeks old, he's six now."
"Wow!" I said. I was so dumbfounded that I forgot to even ask the duck's name.
As soon as we walked (and they waddled) away, a whole lot of other questions occurred to me, like: What do you feed a pet duck? Can you teach a duck to roll over and play dead? Why did he have that duck on a leash, anyway? They don't walk very fast. Can you cuddle with a pet duck at night? Will one fetch your slippers? Lick your hand? Do you even want your pet duck to lick your hand?
If any of you happen to be sitting on your couch reading this with your pet duck by your side and have answers, by all means, share. And if this post has inexplicably inspired you to get a duck of your very own, check out The Pet Duck & Goose Association, which contains such helpful information as: "Bird droppings are pretty messy and to allow your duck to walk around your house a diaper is most likely a must for you."
