Gentle clouds of steam rose from Todd’s World’s Okayest Dad mug. Linda was out at a quilting bee, the boys were at friends’ houses, and the farm was quiet inside and out. Glowing, the fire had settled into embers. He shooed Edison from his favorite chair with his book on World War II’s cavalry. Just as his bottom grazed his chair, a volley of knocks sounded. Sloshing himself with hot bergamot tea, Todd hurried to his front door. The knocking grew frenetic.

Back arched, Edison hissed. Nervous, Todd peered out through the glass. There was nothing. Their porch was empty. Must be the wind, he thought. Todd cracked the door open. On their threshold stood a goose. The old farmer recognized one of his Pilgrim ganders. Bulging beak, dingy white feathers, bright orange feet, this goose was called Cap’n Quackers by the kids. Todd jumped back.

“Todd, thank God you’re home. It’s Frank. I got trouble, man, big trouble,” Frank shouted. “Quick close the door! Their spies are everywhere.”

On autopilot, Todd closed his front door and followed the ruffled interloper into his living room. Shivering, the goose warmed his wing tips in front of the hearth.

“They’re after me, man. I got myself into a jam with the Canadians. I was supposed to move some of their product but I started partying. One thing led to another. Now I have to pay up or disappear. For days, I’ve been freezing my tail feathers off hiding under my ex’s shed. Damned Tilly chased me out tonight. Never could count on a groundhog. Thanks, man,” Frank said.

The goose flew-hopped into Todd’s easy chair and began gobbling down the plate of Linda’s shortbread cookies.

“You can talk?”

Covered in crumbs, Frank stopped mid-cookie. He eyed the farmer.

“We are so far beyond talking animals. Keep up, Todd. Those wild geese are feral, man. At dawn, I’m going to need a ride to the Greyhound station.”

Splashing hot tea on the chair and table, Frank guzzled the contents of the cup. Todd rubbed his eyes hoping he was in a weird dream. Yawning, Frank shook himself. The cup toppled off the table and rolled.

“Look I’m going to take a hot shower. I could murder a bowl of grain and a neat Scotch. I’ll fill you in on the whole plan,” Frank said with a squawk as he headed to the bathroom.

Todd slowly blinked. A feather drifted down and landed in his hair. Edison swatted the feather off Todd’s head.

“Frank’s an idiot but he’s right you can’t count on groundhogs,” Edison said.

Todd yelped. The cat gave his head a pitying shake and curled into sleep on the sofa.