Some too-perspicacious poet said, "We cannot choose what we are free to love." I can put my foot down and make an immovable resolution never to have another pet after Mo, but it looks like there'll always be creatures waiting (or clawing) for food, warmth and love. Gretchen Dog purely begs to stay, every time someone from Hawk Hill comes to get her. And usually, when it's raining, sleeting or snowing, I can look out and see that tuxedo cat shivering and mewing on the back porch. He looks like Lamont Cranston walking into a night club, in the best "Shadow" movie ever made.
(I'll bet A.B.'s ugly brothers hated him when he was young and gorgeous. Wonder if they ever thought about "a pit in Dothan.")
Yesterday when I was out gathering greenery at the back of the lot, the enormous black Rottweiler or pit bull or whatever he is inside my back neighbor's fence barked at me fiercely. In my sweetest voice I said, "Yes, you're a beautiful big black monster, aren't you, you sorry SOB?" and kept up such endearments until he was beside himself with fury.
3 comments:
Yes, but if that dog were hungry you would give it your last hot dog. :)
How well you know me!
The tuxedo cat really does look like Alec Baldwin. Cool.
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