The shofar doesn’t work...

When the three dingoes venture through the patio door and into The Outback, there are times when they are lost and exploring for hours on end. I call and no answer, just a rustling of furry things in the underbrush. Because I have one percent Jewish heritage in my blood, I took out my trusty Shofar and blew the rams horn out into the ether hoping that it would stir some primal gene in the dingoes brain and they would return, contrite and unharmed. But alas, no such luck. I blew the Shofar until my lungs prolapsed and I had to reinsert them back into my body. At my wits end, I drove downtown to the local Aborigine Outlet here in Pedro and picked up a brand new Didgeridoo. It was so long that I had to strap it to the roof of The Bomber just to get it home.  I figured this Didgeridoo would do the trick and get the dingoes back indoors. Glo helped me carry it out to the patio and set it up. I asked Glo for instruction and she said to blow hard and that I would be a natural because I’m full of hot air. So I did. And a sound emitted that I’ve never heard before. Ghostly, haunting and calling. Like foghorns across the water. And the yard went silent.  Magic was happening. The nasturtium of The Outback parted and the dingoes emerged in single file. Humble, reverent and smelling of squirrel turds. They walked up onto the patio and I continued to blow the Didgeridoo. But I made one mistake and blew for a bit too long as other animals came through the brush, drawn to my sirens song. There came an anteater, a Wooley sloth, a Stegosaurus and a Dodo bird. They all sat in rapt attention as I continued to play. I had no idea the variety of creatures living out there. No wonder the dingoes wouldn’t come in. I drew a last breath and finished my sonnet. The yard once again became The Outback, the denizens moved back into the undergrowth and the three dingoes trooped indoors to feast on Scooby Snacks and cheese stuffed blintzes. It was another interesting day here in Pedro.