Thursday, September 01, 2005

Originally uploaded by GypsyPeach.
Anyway, last night I was doing laundry, and Fred ran down the stairs to rub his head lovingly against Andrew's bicycle on the landing. Aide came out when she heard me start the washer and asked to play with Fred. They were having a grand old time, what with the petting and feeding of the Whiska Lickins,' and she starts telling me that she's a big girl who's going to first grade next week, about a birthday party she went to at the American Girl store, and about her weekend trip to an amusement park "where she got her own Bella."

"My dad won me Bella!" She runs into the apartment and returns with an enormous stuffed dog that is quite clearly supposed to be a Rottweiler. "See?!? She has yellow eyebrows just like Bella!" Now, this giant prize dog is larger than my real-life dog. And it is absolutely ferocious. The stuffed dog has fangs made out of felt. Its fabric nose is sewn into a snarl. It is wearing a "spiked" collar made of pleather. It doesn't have drool made out of sequins or anything, but it might as well have. I checked.

I ooh and ahh over the stuffed animal and agree that Mr. Vaquero is an "awesome dad" for winning it for her. Aide runs back into her apartment to get something else to show me while I add the fabric softener. Now that my "big-boned" cat's source of kitty crack has lost interest, Fred wanders over to his lover, the bicycle, and rubs his head against the greasy chain while reciting a Shakespearean sonnet. Actually, Fred is really dumb. If he *could* talk, he would probably try to woo the bike with something a la Tarzan, like: "Me Fred. You Bike."