Not the first time Dolly has been hurtful. A certifiable furvert, she has historically been willing to slum it with me on Valentine’s Day.
How many Valentine’s Days ago was this? Of this photo Dolly says, “LB, you have mad Photoshop skills.”
Say what she will, Dolly has occasionally gone in for some snuggles. But lately so many new bears have entered the house that my chances of winning her back are nil. Even the elementary school is sending home bears for sleepovers…big bears who are really furry—not “matted, mangy, and alcoholic” and who “don’t smell like liver failure.”
So my Valentine’s Day wish is a little less romantic now.
But still hopeful.
Well, we never did leave a Bloody Mary out for the Easter Bunny last night, but he came anyway. He went nuts, that bunny. The kids will be finding Easter eggs in July, the way that he hid them.
Cheers, Easter Bunny. I’m really freaking glad I wasn’t in the living room when you broke into the house. I hear you’re about 6 feet tall and (according to my parents) a committed teetotaler. Too scary for this little bear.
And now, a few pictures to get Easter out of my system…
Yesterday’s animal slaughter discussion got me wondering about the afterlife, but then I remembered the prevailing dogma that animals don’t have souls. OMG! This seemed worth exploring with a bit more intellectual rigor. Being thumbless, I had to ask my parents for help.
Apparently, if you trust my parents’ email silence, Pascal wouldn’t have said anything. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to worry about geese being decapitated outside my neighborhood liquor store and finding themselves…nowhere (omg!) IF this flyer hadn’t been inserted into our front door today:
Even though I was pretty sure animals aren’t included in heavenly salvation, I checked out the associated website for the scoop on animals:
The zebra runs free, and the desert plain is home to the wild ass. Job could not use the wild ass to bear burdens. It seeks “every sort of green plant,” exploring the hills for pasturage. This animal will not exchange its freedom for more easily obtained food in towns. “The noises of a stalker it does not hear,” for the wild ass darts away if a man invades its domain.
This totally confused me, my fellow inebriates, so I hoped my parents would come through for me.
Yes! I said. That’s what I want. Because it sounds as though I, lacking a soul, kind of have a free pass to do whatever I want…
Which my parents had figured out.
“Given that you’re just going to continue behaving the way you do, you don’t really need a table to spell it out.”
I asked if my blog was becoming too intellectual for them.
Not to be challenged that way, one of them made me the following table.
In a way, I think they’re saying “Happy Easter, LB.”