Saturday, August 28, 2021


Sometimes you have to tell your stuffed animals that you aren't listening. After an entire day of dealing with "special" people -- because you work in Marin County, where everyone is special, exeptional, super unique OMG, and entitled -- you may not be quite as attentive to the needs of small furballs as they would like. And no, I'm not going to clop some old geezer over the head just to indulge the turkey vulture's obsession with nice corpsie-corpse.

Corpsie-corpse is like fast food tacos. One is excessive.

The other evening when I prepared some chau min I forgot to feed him. He didn't notice, because he was at that time being spoken to severely by the teddy bear (who is the senior roomie), and in consequence I got to dine in peace and quiet. Severely chastened, he didn't come back to the teevee room till after I had finished my second helping of ice cream.

He was too distracted to wig-on to the fact that I had had dinner and dessert.
Good thing too; a third helping would have been too much.
I am a man possessed of restraint.

One cannot go around harvesting the elderly to feed the turkey vultures, much as they would wish one to do so. Besides, one complete old fossil would be too much for just one stuffed animal, what would he do with the left overs? Stick 'em in the fridge for a midnight snack?

The thought of waking up to the sound of someone gnawing on arthritic old bones in the middlle of the night is mildly disturbing.

He usually too chipper to demand that I eat breakfast (feed him in the morning). But usually he has a lion's share of my dinner. Tucks in with a healthy appetite. And despite never ever having had delicious nutritious corpsie-corps, he's plump and thriving. A happy bird.

Every household should have a happy carrion eater.
No family is complete without one.

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