Yeah, like so what, if I'm lame

I can't eat a piece of pizza without finding myself at odds with the Animal Kingdom by way of Avery, my plodding dinkus of a dog. Things frequently held in my hand are limited to books, balls, and food. Ever the optimist, she's certain I'm always holding food. I'll enter a room, close the door behind me but she'll enter, preceded by the mole-like mountain flanking the crown of her head. With thirteen years under our belt it's too late to call it quits but I'm having second thoughts about including a Dog in the RV adventure. How much tongue-waggling can one man endure? Americans reserve the pursuit of happiness under the constitution but this begs the question. How can such a lofty goal be achieved when one is constantly besotted by a brown dog tongue (not even pink but brown). She's only on the good side of one person. The person in question is an Indian Immigrant and views Avery as something of a novelty. He says goodbye to her when he visits.

When a writer has nothing to write about he gets angry at the Dog. When a filmmaker has no camera or Nick Olah, he gets angry at the dog. I don't doubt the existence of female writers/filmmakers (I've met seven) but I trust they're compassionate enough not to utilize their canine brethren as emotional scape goats.

The hatred for Avery has subsided and I've found my eyes attuned in a constant glower at my cat Zeke. My fury is such that I will pause this posting to poke him in the side on say something taunting... He's become the mantel of my scourge for following his animal instincts and assaulting a Rabbit embryo.

My mom discovered an eyeless lump writhing in the ground. Her first reaction was to bury it but she called me outside. After a relatively minor discourse, we decided to rescue the bunny to be. We set him up on a heating pad, fed him milk off our thumbs, other good things. I got out her pedicure set and removed debris from his wounds with her tweezers. I think I forgot to wash them before putting them back, if I bothered to put them back at all. A dubious query if there ever was one.

To hold something 1/5000th your side? To have the "little dude" as John coined him lap warm milk off your thumb? To watch his ears unfurl and give him a rabbiteen appearance? I posed these things as questions but don't know why. It's a really good feeling.

UPDATE

Fuck it all. The mortal coil has slipped away. It's just one big roller skating rink and your skate rental has just expired. The poor little dude passed away earlier this afternoon. I will not see a blind person without considering you. My chances of someday having a blind mate are now obsolete.

Goodbye Little Dude.