Every cloud has a silver lining, it seems. For here, in all his glory is the Greenpatch offspring's 'beardie,' (Bearded Dragon) aka Ridge (!). That last exclamation mark is part of his persona. When we acquired him, I decided that his name was just the sort a typical 70's TV cop might have used: dynamic, go-getting, devil-may-care, handsome....(insert adjective of your choice here). Which of course - unless you happen to be a lady beardie, poor R is not.
This Telly Savalas of the reptilian realm spends his days sitting on a rock in deep contemplation, and his nights...well...sitting on a rock, or with the occasional foray into exotica, sitting under an ornamental plant. From time to time he toys with his favourite dish of cricket, locust, or grub...live! We have the occasional break out, when constituents of tomorrow's meals on wheels escapes their container and makes off into the far blue yonder. The bathroom is a favourite place; spotted one heading for the airing cupboard early this morning, whilst Mr GP retrieved one from our bed! Yeuch. I know we're supposed to love God's tiny creatures...but sometimes I think the wandr'ing wild and free can get just a little out of hand.
Which leads to the tenuous link of the title - another random thought; all this vocational musing is obviously having a dire effect on my powers of creativity. Greenpatch dog hit a rough spot a few weeks back. To be blunt, a few itchy spots, of the type that religious Frontlining failed to budge. After checking for signs of yet more of the Almighty's tiny creatures, and giving thanks that there were none, I hied me down to the local pets superstore to stock up on skin cream. It did the trick, eventually, though not before I started to get fits of the queasies. As I said, call me a prude, but I'm afraid that, much as I love our hairy horror, there are some things that take me to the edge of my personal comfort zones. And I'm afraid applying tea-tree lotion to a dog's undercarriage is one of them. Luckily, the menfolk stepped in and helped apply lotion and tlc to the poor, afflicted canine.
Though more seriously, it did make me think, and I'm not being facetious in any way, of the time when Francis forced himself to embrace the leper. What would be my modern-day equivalent of that leper? And in the light of that, rendering first aid to a Fido with impetigo-like symptoms is very small beer indeed.
Next time I'll let you apply the cream...
Posted by: Mr GP | June 16, 2008 at 07:59 AM