They call me Mr. Peeps

There are certain things that you never really expect to hear your wife say when you arrive home from work. Things like, 'I really love the ol' pelvic pinochle', or 'You know, I really think I have a taste for human blood', or 'Damn, the rutabaga got stuck again'. That kind of thing. So imagine my surprise when I hear the following words uttered by my teary-eyed better half yesterday: 'Honey, my little girl has a penis!'

No joke.

But perhaps a word of explanation is needed. You see, a few months back we rescued a baby Muscovy duck who had been mauled by some local critter. We brought her back to health, and she has been our house-pet ever since. She even wears a diaper around the house courtesy of some Internet 'Goose Mother' seamstress. Loopy stuff. But we had been convinced for months that she was a girl, and the wife named her 'Miss Peeps'. Since we have two male cats and a boy dog, it was nice to have a little girl. Until yesterday. Seems the wife saw something resembling a Scooby-doo noodle hanging out of what she thought was Miss Peeps' rump. Turns out, after a few unsuccessful tugs to eradicate the 'noodle', an idea slowly formed in my wife's head: 'This may actually be a wiener'. So, where else, to Google images she went. If you concentrate on the picture below, you will see what comes up for a 'duck penis' search.

Hot dog, we have a wiener.

And, thus, our little girl is actually a boy.