Onion Loves Me, This I Know

Onion won't stop staring at me
photo taken using the ShakeItPhoto app on the iPhone 3G

Onion won't stop staring at me. I took the above photo a couple of days ago, but THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE RIGHT NOW.

He loves lurvs luffs me more than his own kibble. My typing is his Beethoven. One look from me sets him purring and stretching his paws in happiness.

He's driving me motherf-ing nuts.

It's like when I was a kid and my little brother was four and he would follow me everywhere I went. I took to climbing high up into our poplar trees with a book where he couldn't reach the branches. I'd read up there while he jumped around underneath and embraced the trunks in a desperate effort to join me.

That ended badly, because, in a fit of four-year-old genius one day, he pushed an upended garbage can under a tree, crawled up into it, and then broke his arm after he jumped out when no one came to help him get down. I may have been the one who took the garbage can away so that he would be stuck in that tree.

27 years later, I still feel like a jerk.

There are no trees in this apartment for me to hide in, but if Onion keeps touching my face with his feet while I sleep...

I'm just saying.

Grace in Small Things: Sunday Edition #23

I Was Just Curious To See How Long A Title Could Be Before I Ran Out Of Room, And Then I Was Wondering If An Entire Post Could Just Be The Title, But Then Wouldn't The Title BE The Post? And Then Would It Technically Be A Post Without A Proper Title? These Kinds Of Hard Questions Keep Me Up At Night. Except They Don't. Worry About Sinkholes Under My Apartment Building Does. And Existential Angst.