Couldn’t Put It Down

Try as I would, I couldn’t. My vet had no luck at all— “This argle-bargles the hell out of me,” she sputtered. “Most tenacious doggerel I’ve ever seen.”

“I knew I should’ve studied English Lit instead of Feline sepsis,” she fretted, breaking another needle on its spine. “Pretty soon this gets into the general population and jiggery-pokery becomes the norm— oh, my God, I’m doing it, aren’t I!”

“Maybe we should burn it,” I blurted out, then immediately regretted it.

“Don’t go medieval on me, that’s just what they want,” she said not unkindly. Her hand rested a moment on my shoulder, I felt the human warmth beneath her latex.

Then she brightened. “I’ve got a litter of stray pups in the back— they’ll chew up anything!”

“But...”

She apprehended my concern. “It’s all right. They’ve got iron constitutions. They’ll crap it out and be yapping happily again in no time.”

You Put That in Your Mouth?


Selfie

It’s finished, even if I’m not all there.