Excerpt from chapter 3 of "Concerning Florence"

Have you ever had an interest in animal husbandry? Have you ever wanted to sell your life for another’s?
Particularly a being of simple sentience who relies on you for the bread in the morning and the shelter
from Mr. rain cloud, snow misbegotten, and heated coals on a summer's day? It is a calling that is certainly
not for everyone, but for some, it is life’s greatest purpose. If you are such a somebody, you might be at
first overwhelmed by the enormous variety of creatures, and of which might be best suited for your
caregiving. now, of course, the first thing to consider is your climate. For instance, a crocodile might do
quite poorly on an Alaskan homestead, unless you could somehow bundle it in a fine fur coat and a
custom pair of snow shoes; which is exactly what a good friend of mine from grade school did, under the
misinformed notion that crocodiles were experts at panning for gold; a lie sold to him by the crocodile in
question, desperate to leave Florida on account of a warrant. You could say: he sold him a “croc of shit”.
Needless to say, it was a disaster and the crocodile in question died of hypothermia. So unless you want to
kill a few bears and are good with a sewing needle, it would be best if you stuck to animals that thrive off
the natural environment in which you live; although, narrowing down the list in this way still leaves you
with a great number of possibilities. Say you blindfolded yourself and threw a feathered needle at a dart
board, and came to the conclusion that a pack of mules was the answer to your paternal, or maternal,
need for nurture; being that you were perhaps too homely to reproduce offspring of your own, or that you
realized that a mule doesn’t need a college fund but rather just a firm kick in the half-ass and maybe a
buckshot slug when it inevitably contracts lupus. Anyway, you might be further confuzzled to know that
there is a wide selection of breeds within each creature you pick, and each one carries its own
characteristics and relative hardiness. Take geese; there are many different breeds of geese. In fact, there
are exactly ninety-six different breeds of geese, which begs the question: where does one even start? There
are Steinbacher Geese, Pilgrim, Sebastopol, Bar-Headed, and Barnacle- the list could go on and on. But I
would like to draw attention to a certain rare breed of goose. A goose so rare, there was only one in the
world at the time when Dolly lived, and there has not been one seen alive since. I am speaking of course
about the Gentleman Goose. it was true at that time, that no one else had heard of such a fowl other than
that lecherous farmer Hank, playing tricks with Dolly’s eyes, offering her a bargain on some barnyard
buzzards that would be sure to keep the weeds thin, of which geese were most famous for. “I'll say I've
been fancying a few to have around my garden...for dandelions and all that. But why would you want to
sell such a fine flock?” Asked Dolly, after being offered them at a very reasonable price. A price so
reasonable, Dolly was weary that there would be strings attached. “ My new pet fox would be bad news to
them...just caught him in the briar patch with a double Apache live trap. Named him Ackatoa... after the
pygmy god of campfire magic.” Dolly rolled her eyes slowly. “Hank, please be sensible.” She said scoffing
with her high-rise cheekbones. “Honest to God mam, I have no use for em. They were some hoity-toity
presents from my late wife’s relatives...for our wedding and all that. Apparently, they are a sign of having a
few coins...but I aint seen people treat me no different. Same shed, same coat of paint.” Hank chuckled
modestly, wiping his forehead of sweat with his sleeve. “And what of their breed?” Dolly said, trying to get
to the point of the matter. “Well mam they are all mostly pilgrim-all...mostly pilgrim.” Dolly raised her
eyebrows at his grammar and annunciation. “Why did I find him handsome at one time? The man needs to
be hit in the head with a dictionary... and what of his breath? Surely the man must have eaten a dozen
Altoids in the last few seconds. ” She thought, nodding her head slowly as a polar vortex of spearmint
reached her nostrils, initiating a pleasant warmth in her more tender parts. “ Well...except the Male.”
Finished Henry, stroking his long white fox tail, not noticing that Dollys eyes had glazed over for he had
looked over into space as well. “He’s sort of a rare breed.” “A rare breed , you say?” Asked dolly ,
snapping out of her trance. “Yes mam , a rare breed indeed. I wouldn’t be wantin to sell em or nothin like
that , but id rather not separate him from his lady folk you see.” He said, stopping abruptly his beard
grooming to look at Dolly quite dramatically , those blue wide eyes , misty in the reticles. “I know how
lonesome one bird can be without a good honest to God , God fearing flock of the gentler sex. A man
gets...tired...tired as a Wyoming sunset I say.” He said, holding his heart as if it were aching. “My lord
Henry... for our Jesus’s sake , please think before you speak” she scolded, glancing around , worried that
someone might have been watching or listening to her embarrassment. “Im sorry Dolly roll , but when I
gets to a juggin , I get all sorts of poetic ideas. Cant blame a romantic Darleen , just blame the ink in his
shoes-“ . He stopped mid sentence when he realized he was doing it again. He then said kindly: “ He
comes with the flock. No extra for him. Take him as a gift.” “Nonsense. I will pay you for what you are
owed and for what he is worth. What sort of rare breed is he?” “Why Dolly , they call him a Gentleman
Goose.” “Ive never heard of such a breed. pray this Isn’t one of your poetic ideas?” “Sure none thing
Dolly , I aint been naming him. He comes with his own name. Just like God named Adam and Eve , you,
Dolly..and Me , Hankerton. You see , he names himself that.” “And how is that?” Asked dolly , a grin
peeking its head out from under her many stern and grumpy wrinkles , inching her way to conversations
close as she was already making up her mind to drop the entire thing and ride away on her carriage. “Well
he’s just as civilized as you or me , if not none more. Eats with a fork and everything. Talks good too , uses
big words I cant even renday-voo with.” “He talks?” Asked dolly , cutting in shortly. “Why yes , better
than a June bug in-“ “He speaks?” She interrupted. “ Why yes Dolly roll thats what Im God gum trying to
say.” Dolly said nothing in reply for a short while , only untied her reins and stepped into her carriage as
hank followed her with his eyes. Once she had her switch in hand and reins at the ready , she looked down
and over at hank with a face as frigid as the bottom Half of a beer cooler. “Demonic...” She growled. “
geeup” And then , she rode out of the square. "