Saturday, 20 July 2013
Dear Mother
Where did we go? My baby. Where did we go?
Wise words, Mother, I think you will agree. Following the recent wet troubles that Wales has experienced, and the tales of near misses heard over the bar last night, I find myself in a reflective mood this morning. Our petty squabbles seem insignificant (though I must clarify that food itself is not insignificant, and never will be - this is me after all).
But I find myself wondering if a truce might not be possible?
I ask for little, only a reignition of our formerly loving relationship. A belly scratch here for me, a wiggly tail there for you. A few moments now and again to just be together.
Yes, we will tussle. Yes, you will never give me as much food as I desire. Yes, you will come at me with scissors on a depressingly regular basis. And yes, from time to time I will, inevitably, roll in something stinky. But we can overcome these difficulties. Perhaps with the Power of Love?
I wear my heart on my sleeve in the hope that we can walk a smoother path together.
Your furry first born,
Clive
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