The above is Fifi (left) commiserating with her pal Buster on the rec room couch of the La Veranda Assisted Living Home in Boca Raton, Florida.
The below is a diary entry of a dog suffering from an identity crisis.
It was on again today, that documentary about the wolves. I feel a certain irrefutable kinship to those beasts, yet when I look in the mirror all I see is an innocuous poofball staring back at me with glistening adorable eyes instead of the cold stare of the wild. I somehow doubt those magnificent relatives of mine suffer the luxury of living in a retirement home.
Speaking of self-esteem issues, I fell down them again today, the stairs. I ass-slid for what seemed like days before regaining my footing. Thought I’d ass-slide for miles into some horrifying abyss where I’d lose all hope of finding out what’s at the top of those damn, humiliating steps.
I’m in the midst of some existential crisis, I think. I cannot seem to come to terms with the incessant fluffiness of my very being.
I suppose I should think deeply about my place in the world. I will have to do that later as now it’s knitting time and I have a lap to keep warm.
Duties are duties, whether it be killing antelopes for sustenance or holding down a ball of yarn for the duration of craft hour.