Birds of a FEATH
Rolling over in bed, I got an unpleasant surprise.
What’s that on my knee? I thought to myself, feeling something wet and slimy.
‘Phoenix!’ I winced.
The culprit was my innocent white feathered angel, Phoenix the gosling.
Despite her continual pooping in bed, pecking and pulling out of my chest hair, she was the only chick I needed in my life.
Though I have tried to have girlfriends in the past.
‘It’s me or the goose,’ an ex told me as she left in a flap.
But Phoenix has always been my number one.
It was April 2020, and it was
