Years ago, the family cat brought home a tiny duckling. Like, no more than three days old. Totally unharmed.

There was no way we could find its mother, and in retrospect we should have had called wildlife authorities, but being stupid kids we thought the right thing to do would be to keep it, feed it, keep it warm, and give it a home. So we begged our parents, and they let us keep it.

When the duck was grown enough, we filled up our unused stock tank, made a little island and a shelter for it, and spent all summer making sure our beloved pet duck had everything it needed. After it learned to fly, it left, but it left us with memories. Best summer ever.

I miss my duck. Thanks, kitty.