So here I am minding my own business eating a clandestine muffin and sending humom subliminal messages about taking me out for a walk (=drooling on her feet) when a noise like rusty hinges mating with a recently stabbed cat emanate from the yard. Humom and her sister dash to the window, to be effortlessly shouldered aside by a graceful Malamute. Outside shuffling along is a group of four ugly birds. Three are temptingly plump but otherwise quite nondescript except for the rakish feather crests on their tiny heads. Humom squeals, "peacocks!!" Huh. Little does she know that her delight will soon turn to projectiles lobbed at the noisemakers as they wake her up by thunking onto the roof and screeching at all hours of day and night.
Do I make peacock tartare? I do not. I keep to the high road and ignore the stringy old things. If I go off the expensive kibble, how else will humom be motivated to keep the nose to the grindstone? Let her find SOME purpose in life ...
--- Missy out
