This is Lovable Doofus, Mr. Agatha’s black Lab. He’s happy here because we just got back from a walk. And he’s smiling, so you can’t see all the flecks of gray around his eyes and muzzle that indicate he’s a senior Lovable Doofus, but he’s very distinguished (in years, that is.)
Lovable Doofus’ world is very different than from when the year began. He had a constant companion in Princess Rolo, sister Agatha’s dog. He would bark a lot more, be underfoot a lot more, be crazy a lot more.
Now, ten months later, it’s just him and it’s a lot quieter. I always wonder what that’s like, in the world of a dog, how they process that information. When we had two cocker spaniels at home, one of them allegedly went deaf, and I wondered how that one communicated to the other one: Dude. I can’t hear. I CAN’T HEAR. Because there didn’t seem to be any spazzing out about it.
Here is Baby Elmo, one of the small children I went trick or treating with yesterday. I tried my hardest to get a picture of him with the Elmo head that served as his candy bag, since that was so weird and wrong, but he was a squirmy one, and I barely got this shot off before he yanked off the top part of the costume. He was hot and cranky and didn’t last long on the candy train. I can only imagine what Baby Elmo thought about the whole thing. What the hell is this? Red fur? On me? WHAT IS GOING ON! IT’S HOT! I’M STICKY! GET ME OUT OF HERE! I DON’T CARE ABOUT CANDY! WHAT THE HELL IS CANDY ANYWAYS? I’M NOT EVEN TWO!
Who knows what Lovable Doofus thinks (I suspect it’s not much.) Who knows what Baby Elmo thinks. But it’s important to know that even though they only have a dim understanding of what’s going on, someone ELSE knows what’s going on, and will take care of them.
So ends the most disgustingly obvious metaphor o’ the day.