More Neighborhood Shenanigans

This morning, right down the street from the house with the "no overlay" sign in its front yard--that sign sits there like some vestigial tail, since we don't live in Sylvan Park--and from the big new quasi-medieval apartments where the dog likes to shit, we heard a rooster. "Craw-caw-coo." The dog and I both stopped, looked down the street, looked at each other, and shook our heads. We started walking again. "Craw-caw-coo." There was no mistaking that noise. It's definitely a rooster. Our neighborhood is so awesome--friendly people, lots of birds, a big brown fox, some stars at night, and now a rooster--and all right in the heart of the city. Could it get any better? I mean, other than handy access to the fruits of the hobo still.