Friday was the arrival of two new pets. Not the two new gerbils. This is newer still. I would not mind all the nighttime wheel running or the sawdust overflow if I was able to at least name one of them Josef. In so doing I realize I might alienate all my Jewish friends, but then again they may have seen that as a fitting end to such a rat bastard.
No, these two new pets are society finches. It seems my wife is creating her own ark, piece by piece. Maybe she knows something I don’t! Society finches were specially bred so pet stores could double their sales by convincing unwitting customers how they need company to live. “What happens when one dies?” I asked my dear spouse. “Does the other commit avian suicide by diving head first into the bottom of the cage?” Even though she convinced me the cage would remain spotless, Dr. Cleanlittle did not take into account how these little intrepid fliers would zoom around the cage causing their droppings to do anything but drop as they are propelled through the bars and onto the polished oak floor. If this keeps up one night I will serve the world’s tiniest drumsticks for dinner.
Sunday arrives. It is a quiet morning. A little classical music is playing softly while I’m lying supine on the couch, coffee in hand. My dog Daisy is on my chest and I’m scratching her ear (see I’m not totally heartless). It was all very calming. I know Daisy was especially relaxed. For in a few minutes there was a warm tingling sensation all over my pants. I lifted her up and sure enough the little monster had let her bowels get carried away to Debussey. I jumped up and ran to the back door, threw the offender out, and jumped in the shower with my clothes one while my wife’s laughter was heard throughout the house. I felt so dirty I even brushed my teeth again. Why can’t they put money into animal research and come up with a pet that only goes once a year in the neighbor’s yard? That I would buy!
This may night be the most opportune place to segue but I've just updated my website with a great deal of help from Mel Cassio, my web guy. Thanks Mel. Go to jamiestroud.com and check it out. It's the least you could do after what I've been through.
January 19, 2011 Davidson Mesa Park