that said, growing up, my parents had a pet goose, and he was one mean s.o.b.
Had to chuckle at your goose story...My grandmother, (who died in the 1960’s at the age of 90) has a goose on her farm that was so mean and tough she said after she cooked it you still had to cut the gravy.
I just moved, and needed my phone changed over to the new address- turned out there was a problem with the new house so a repairman had to actually come to the house. The phone company had two stipulations- no dogs and no geese in the yard.
Thanks. I know Sylvester loved me. Once another gander was ‘beaking’ me on the leg. Before it could ‘beak’ me the third time, Sylvester had him at his wing-neck junction and proceeded to drag him down the hill and threw him into the pond.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
My Sylvester was so noble, good, possessed of a special intelligence and love. I have many tales about him. And I know there will never be another Sylvester. I do so miss him.