On Pets

The trouble with keeping a blog is that you sometimes have to feed it, and pet food costs money, and money is time, and time is scarce if you don’t want to neglect your other time-wasting activities, like working on your novel, which is still a joke but not as much a joke as it was, say, six months ago. 

Still, here it is, the little blog, whimpering in the corner with its feed-me eyes and tent-pole ribs.  Wasn’t pet ownership supposed to be a sunny afternoon pleasure rather than a pulsar of everyday guilt?  But indulgence dresses itself up as obligation in the end.

There are upsides to malnourishment.  Studies show that rats raised on near-starvation diets will ripen into veritable Methuselahs compared to those plumped up on sugarwater and fatty meats.  Even if the little blog isn’t, thanks to the Spartan rations, as round and cuddly as it might be, at least it isn’t completely debauched.

Anyway, I’m still here.  Stick around long enough and you just might get a Scooby Snack.

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