Missing: Cement Lawn Goose
Age: 14
Name: Jenny
Last Seen Wearing: Santa suit
Folks, today is a momentous day, as yet another chapter of my youth comes to an oddly appropriate close. And so today I shall tell you the epic tale of Jenny, the Decapitated-Recapitated Goose...also known in days of yore as The Hot Goose.
Her saga begins years ago, in the women's dormitory where I was attending college. A couple of girls in the dorm two rooms down from me got quite sozzled one night, and in an evening of debauched shenanigans came home with one of those delightfully kitschy cement lawn geese, which they had stolen from someone's front yard. How a couple of 95-pound underage drunk girls successfully made off with a 65 pound chunk of tacky yard art without attracting attention is beyond me, but it must have been quite a sight. It sat in their dorm room for the rest of the school year; then as the semester wound down and they faced the impossibility of carrying such a trinket home by airplane, they gave it to my boyfriend. Who in turn...gave it to his mom as a gift.
His mother was more touched by her son's gift that we ever anticipated. She put it in her front lawn and even bought it clothes. A bikini for summer. A little raincoat and umbrella in April. A Halloween costume, and even a Santa suit. I couldn't help but giggle every time I saw her doting on what my boyfriend and I had privately dubbed the Hot Goose.
Years later, I happened to be living two houses down from her and I saw the goose in her trash, headless. It had simply grown so old it crumbled, I guess. But I was loath to see that odd little trifle of my college days disappear just yet, so I took it home and fashioned it a pretty passable head from papier mache, and once it was dried and matched to the body with a few layers of glossy white she looked great. I tied a green ribbon around her neck and redubbed her Jenny, an homage to the silly campfire story of childhood. When I told my ex's mother that I had taken and repaired the goose, she was thoroughly amused...and a few days later I came home to find a shopping bag next to Jenny filled with all her outfits.
I now live in a house very close to a college campus (not the same one), surrounded by student neighbors. Jenny has continued to grace my porch for a few years now. The kids got a big kick out of her, and looked forward to pulling out the bag at the start of each new season to find her a new outfit to wear.
This morning, my husband and I were leaving the house when he turned to me and said, "Umm...I think our hot goose is hot again." I turned to look, and sure enough she was gone, Santa suit and all. Taken - in all likelihood - by drunk college students.
Maybe I should have been upset, but all I could do was laugh until my ribs ached. A silly and irreplaceable bit of sentimental frippery she was, but what a fitting close to our history together.
Farewell, Jenny, and godspeed you on your future adventures.
Age: 14
Name: Jenny
Last Seen Wearing: Santa suit
Folks, today is a momentous day, as yet another chapter of my youth comes to an oddly appropriate close. And so today I shall tell you the epic tale of Jenny, the Decapitated-Recapitated Goose...also known in days of yore as The Hot Goose.
Her saga begins years ago, in the women's dormitory where I was attending college. A couple of girls in the dorm two rooms down from me got quite sozzled one night, and in an evening of debauched shenanigans came home with one of those delightfully kitschy cement lawn geese, which they had stolen from someone's front yard. How a couple of 95-pound underage drunk girls successfully made off with a 65 pound chunk of tacky yard art without attracting attention is beyond me, but it must have been quite a sight. It sat in their dorm room for the rest of the school year; then as the semester wound down and they faced the impossibility of carrying such a trinket home by airplane, they gave it to my boyfriend. Who in turn...gave it to his mom as a gift.
His mother was more touched by her son's gift that we ever anticipated. She put it in her front lawn and even bought it clothes. A bikini for summer. A little raincoat and umbrella in April. A Halloween costume, and even a Santa suit. I couldn't help but giggle every time I saw her doting on what my boyfriend and I had privately dubbed the Hot Goose.
Years later, I happened to be living two houses down from her and I saw the goose in her trash, headless. It had simply grown so old it crumbled, I guess. But I was loath to see that odd little trifle of my college days disappear just yet, so I took it home and fashioned it a pretty passable head from papier mache, and once it was dried and matched to the body with a few layers of glossy white she looked great. I tied a green ribbon around her neck and redubbed her Jenny, an homage to the silly campfire story of childhood. When I told my ex's mother that I had taken and repaired the goose, she was thoroughly amused...and a few days later I came home to find a shopping bag next to Jenny filled with all her outfits.
I now live in a house very close to a college campus (not the same one), surrounded by student neighbors. Jenny has continued to grace my porch for a few years now. The kids got a big kick out of her, and looked forward to pulling out the bag at the start of each new season to find her a new outfit to wear.
This morning, my husband and I were leaving the house when he turned to me and said, "Umm...I think our hot goose is hot again." I turned to look, and sure enough she was gone, Santa suit and all. Taken - in all likelihood - by drunk college students.
Maybe I should have been upset, but all I could do was laugh until my ribs ached. A silly and irreplaceable bit of sentimental frippery she was, but what a fitting close to our history together.
Farewell, Jenny, and godspeed you on your future adventures.
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