Monday, December 15, 2008
I don't like to speak ill of anyone, least of all the person who feeds me my barely palatable dry kibble. But that Karin is one cheap bitch. It's freezing up here in Altadena; there's snow on the mountain for god's sake. And I do not have the opposable thumbs required to turn that thermostat from a freezing 68 up to a tolerable 72 degrees. It's fine for Phoebe -- she's old and gets to crawl up on the bed because, well, she's old and apparently gets to do whatever she wants these days. Me? I have to find some corner of the service porch (Service -- hah!) and curl up like a donut to keep the frost off my stomach. I've put myself on EBay for adoption, listing all my finer points. I can dig a good deep hole, I can get rid of all the pesky vegetation in your backyard, I can chew up that Proust book you never meant to read anyway, and I can bark at my reflection -- sneaky devil, that. So look out, because I expect a bidding war.