Help!

“Wheeet Wheeaal,” the wolf whistle was unmistakable. I knew immediately that it was directed toward Jane, who, after all, is more than well-preserved for one in the early years of her eighth decade. OK, she’s 71 but that is the beginning of that decade and she is a good-looking woman, if one is allowed to say that about one’s wife.

The source of the whistle though, was less certain. The fellow grilling the evening meal on the table-top hibachi at the campsite beside us probably had an appreciative eye, but I could not imagine a man being so obviously fresh, the more so since he’s probably my age or a bit older. And his wife is right there! 

When next I heard a laughing cackle and then a coarse “Help me! Help me!” I realized that, at last, we had neighbors in the campground without a pet on a leash (one fellow was walking two dogs and a cat, all on leashes). We had a parrot in the $240,000 motor home next door.

I decided right then and there that I want one of those. No, not the sleek, brown, beige and black RV. I want a parrot! If this election results in a Republican win, I’ll lose my voice crying for help. If it is President-elect Romney who grins at us late Tuesday night, we are all going to need all the help we can get.