SL/Fact and some fiction

I wandered onto her land.

"Want to eat?" she asked me.

Did I look like I needed to eat? I may live longer.

"It's better to be a bird. Believe me," she said.

/

Did I hear her right?

"Do you speak?" she finally asked.

It was my turn to talk.

"I speak chicken scratch and turkish," I said.

She had no hair on her head, so I wondered if this signified at attempt to "drop out" of society...thus, her appraisal of birds.

"You know, you can be one yourself," I said.

"???"

"A bird. You can be a bald eagle. You can be a turkey vulture too."

"???"

"I thought you liked birds..."

"I do like birds. I have one in my house, and one in my skillet right now."

"Ewwwwwww."

"I eat in front of my parakeet; he doesn't mind."

Traitor, I thought.

"The last chicken I ate had no name. I named my parakeet, though. His name is Spot."

"Even thawed birds deserve names," I reminded her.

"Spot is named after my last pet, a dog." She wasn't really listening.

"Wild," I thought.

"Spot ran away shortly after I got my parakeet. So I just started calling my parakeet Spot."

"Uhhhhh" I said.

----

...to be continued

SL/Hunt

I'm on a mission to become a furry. I don't think I've had real fur yet, having been a human (skin), a turkey (feathers) and an elephant (scales?). Real fur has eluded me.

I don't want to be a dog, as I'm already one in real life.
I don't want to be a wolf, as they are better left unseen and overheard.
I don't want to be a cat, as they (sometimes) have a wagging tail that confounds me.
I don't want to be a skunk, even tho that stripe down their middle is far out.
I don't want to be a mouse, because I'm not sure what they have qualifies as "fur."
This picture that I found in Search under "fur" is not what I'm after, either:

Other choices...

I don't care to be a Care Bear.

This is more like fuzz.

Rind, ectoplasm, and some 'borrowed' skin...

/

Where is all the decent fur??

A possibility.

SL/April Foolishness
Patric shouts: i want one of you casino zombies to finally say something EmilyK: something
Patric: lol hi Emily

Patric: good to see you in print again

Patric: before the night is over i want to round up a few of you casino zombies for cheap labor around my house

Patric: starting with this chauffeur next to me

Patric: i can tell what each and every one of you were in a previous life

Patric: you, sir, were a trucker

Patric: you look like an architect

Patric: you are a homemaker

Patric: you are obviously a stripper

Patric: you are a canine

Patric: now you are all casino zombies

1st Life/Stuck on roof

We were putting up a banner when our ladder toppled over. Good thing we were already on roof!
We looked at each other like: Now what?
Both of us had our cell phones. We could call someone...
"Good morning. Good Sunday morning. Could you do us a BIG favor and rescue us by picking up our ladder off the ground...?"
It was only two stories up, but still.
We saw a lady walking her dog. As she got closer, I asked Bill "Should we?"
Yes.
"Ma'am, good morning! How are you? Beautiful day, isn't it? Listen, we're in a jam. Our ladder fell over. Yes, that one. Would you mind...?"
She mercifully upended our ladder while her poodle watched.
"Thank you! Thank you!" we both said.
I wadded up nine dollars and tossed it down to her. She smiled and left.
Bill and I looked at each other and thanked the heavens for strolling dogs.

1st Life/Another sobering holiday weekend to deal with

There is a new mechanic at work named Walter who's an all-around decent guy. His mother is very near death. Today at work he was getting a lot of turmoil off his chest--impossibly hard-to-describe turmoil, which I'm sure is therapeutic. He lives with his best friend, a smart dog named Randy. He is very devoted to his dog, as well as his mother. Seeing his mother go out this way has to be the hardest experience of his life.

Another strong dog connection, this one. Another grieving situation. Another holiday weekend...

Another neighbor friend who needs strength.

1st Life/A dog died at work today

A dog died at work today. It wasn't my dog. It was my neighbor's dog.
It had to be put to sleep.
The owner is a kind man; he runs the frame shop next door. He has two German Shepherds. He shares them with his wife.
I forget their names but I know they are the love of his life. He takes them for rides in his car. The seats fold down and are always covered in dog hair. He calls it the 'dog car.' His wife drives the human car.
I remember seeing a photo of his dogs. They were in full fur regalia, posed in front of the family's couch. Smiling. How proud their papa was.
They are brother and sister, those two. Never have they been spanked, or even yelled at. He calls them "perfect dogs."

The frame shop owner won't cuss in front of his dogs. Once, he'd accidentally let a curse word slip out, and before he knew it both dogs were following him around, acting mortified: What is wrong, Daddy? You never cuss.

A few months ago they rode to work in the 'dog car' and I got to see them in person. They were beautiful dogs. I tried getting their attention but they would have nothing to do with me. They paced back and forth. Daddy was inside.

A week ago the owner stopped by to tell me he had taken the female (the sister) to the vet because she had collided with her brother and was sore. The vet said the soreness would persist until she had an operation. This operation would cost thousands of dollars (dollars the shop owner didn't have). The injury was manageable, though, with massage. He would massage her every night. She wouldn't get better, but she wouldn't get any worse.

The sister is the smarter one. Her brother is dumber than "a box of rocks"--as the owner likes to joke. The brother is probably twice the size of his sister. Happy-go-lucky. His sister is more refined. More ladylike. And smarter. She is the oldest by a few minutes and guides her younger, dumber brother through life.
Driving into work today I saw the frame shop owner walk by so I flashed my high beams at him. No response. I flashed again. Nothing. He kept on walking (shuffling).
Later I found out the frame shop owner had stopped by to tell my manager that he was having one of his dogs put to sleep that day (today). Dear God. Which one? I asked. And why? My manager didn't know.
Outside, the shop owner's car was gone. The 'dog car' was missing.
He is a good man.
Keep him in your thoughts.