July 21 • 02:26 AM

Things go right for a while

July 19, 2017
"Build a wall! Build a wall! Build a wall!" is the chant running through my head as I look at the invader.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I'd even remotely utter any words that have been uttered by Donald Trump, but here I am, thinking we absolutely have to Build A Wall if we're going to be successful in our endeavor to keep this unwanted alien OUT. Oh Brother! This is nuts! Am I losing my mind? Seriously? Build a wall????

I start to chuckle. I can't help it. It's a crazy thought for a crazy situation and my friends and I are doing the best we can to deal.

I must protect what is mine. We've got just one shot at keeping this invader out, hopefully for good.

My friends are willing to do whatever it takes to help me. I'm lucky that way. And even though we're laughing our heads off, this is serious business.

"Call me Trump," I chuckle, "but we've got to build a wall."

An unlikely thing happens. My friends nod in agreement! We're actually saying "We have to Build. A. Wall." to keep my homestead safe!

While my friends keep watch over the invader, I race to the barn to find materials for the wall.

I grab a hand cart that's still folded up in its box. The slim package is at least a foot and a half tall when placed on its narrow side. That'll do for one portion of the wall.

An old peach crate works for side number two. The extra-large cat carrier (it's really a dog crate but I use it to transport ducks and call it an extra-large cat carrier) works for the third side, and the upside down plastic laundry basket that has become the temporary jail for our prisoner closes up the perimeter. It's not a very attractive wall, but it's solid enough for our purposes. This particular trespasser is outta luck when it comes to crossing this border.

While we're interested in banning the alien from the area, we're not willing to cause harm. It was because of the latter that we have the wall discussion. And plot strategy from there.

With shovel and garden rake nearby, we begin to assign duties to maximize success for execution of the plan.

*Dee (*name changed, classified information) will man the shovel, *Anna Maria is in charge of maneuvering the extra-large cat carrier, and yours truly will scoop it up when the target is secured and slam the door shut, period.

The wall all but guarantees no possible escape, even if the shovel slips or the carrier doesn't close.

With the skill of a surgeon, Dee slides the shovel underneath the target and hefts the weighty being toward the carrier that Anna Maria is holding. She has to tilt the shovel a bit as the alien is large—almost too large to fit through the door.

With a little maneuvering, Dee nudges the intruder into the crate. I scoop it up on its end and clamp the doors shut.

Our prisoner is not happy. Not at all. There's much clamoring and shuffling and shifting as I heft the carrier toward Dee's car for deportation. Dee secures our quarry in the hatchback area, and we climb in the vehicle to complete our mission.

When it's time for release at the appointed location, I hesitate to open the gate, afraid of backlash. Fearless, Dee asks "want me to do it," and I promptly nod and say "yes!" And she does. We watch the alien make its way to new shores. Mission accomplished. Peace again insured at the Peaceful Moon Acres' pond.

"I'm so happy that snapper is finally gone," I say. "Remember that year when my ducks wouldn't step one webbed toe in the pond? They were always at my neighbors and wandering on the road. I'm so glad that won't happen this year."

My friends nod. We're all pleased with our accomplishment. Things went right for a little while. And that was quite long enough.

Email Catherine at

Catherine Minolli is Managing Editor of the Tri-City Times. She began as a freelance writer with the Times in 1994. She enjoys the country life, including raising ducks and chickens.
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