DP: Accident

We’ve told him and we’ve told him: If you’re going to come spotting with us you need to be clear-headed! But Reginald likes to tipple. There – it’s out. No more secrets. He enjoys a slug of Ol’ Whatsit every so often – ok, a little more often than ‘every so often’ – and it really shows when he tries to take on important assignments. Like spotting. 

I mean, is there anything more important than spotting? You just can’t be sloshed when you’re spotting, any more than you should be sloshed when you’re driving. Spotting comes with heavy responsibilities and if you can’t tell real from copy when you’re spotting then maybe you should just lie down and watch the world spin around. 

We’ve tried to get at the reason for him tippling, but he’s very mum on the subject: he just taps his nose with his right paw and says “mum”, like we’re supposed to know what that means. Maybe he misses his Mommy in Toronto. He came from there, moved back, came west again, went east, came back, went for a visit. He’s probably working through some traumas from his days at the Canadian Red Cross.

Anyway, spotting, for Reginald, is an accident waiting to happen. We love him, but the regulars get quite upset when he comes along because they have to keep helping him up. See here how Snerkie chastises him while Snick tries to ignore him. 

We love him. Reggie is a big part of our critter family, and not just because of his nose – which is enormous, by the way. We will never, ever, give up on him. But I don’t think we’ll let him go spotting anymore. I think I’ll assign him to something more in line with his talents. 

Like politics. 

 

On Loving 

 

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DP: Imaginary

Imaginary. Hmmm, how do you suppose we at the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Stuffed Animals might approach a challenge like this? I called a meeting to discuss it, and of course, everyone had ideas.

Reginald, our resident lion, known for his courage and his penchant for tippling, thought the solution was obvious:

“Tell them about movie nights!” he exclaimed, just a little bit too loudly. “They must know about movie nights!”

“Stop yer hollering,” chided Barry Bear. He was a bit stodgy, but fun in the playground; about two years ago he took to wearing his Santa hat year-round. “I think we should share our recipes with them.”

Murray Moose, the Vice President, and a moose of impeccable character and enormous nose piped up next: “Why don’t we tell them about our field trips?”

“Those of us who actually make field trips, you mean,” interjected the secretary, Charlene. “We don’t all get to go on the field trips, you know.”

Reginald said, thoughtfully: “I’ve been. They’re a lot of fun.”

Benny, the thespian, stuck up a paw and coughed gently. “Perhaps we should tell them about the movie we’re making,” he said, causing Barry Bear to roll his eyes.

“You mean the one we’ve been making for the better part of the last six years?” he said, somewhat incredulously. “You’re referring to L’Ur Brun, the filming of which has never progressed past scene one?”

“What are you suggesting? You saying we don’t work hard?”

“Oh, not at all. You spend all day at it to be sure, though there doesn’t seem to be much progress.”

Snick jumped in then. “Boys, boys, don’t fret, don’t argue. I for one know that the movie is very important, and I do believe in it. Perhaps we should tell them how we look after the car and talk to people at the car shows.”

“But it’s only you and Snerk and Sidney who get to go to those,” complained Arthur, the black-eared dog.

“I think,” Snerky squeaked, “that we should explain what spotting is and why it’s so important.”

The group fell quiet for a moment, thinking. 

“The thing you all seem to be missing,” I said, “is that these are the very things that I do talk about in the blog.” I paused. “All the time.” I paused again, and sighed. “Which I take to mean that none of you ever actually read what I write.” I shook my head, disappointed.

There was an awkward silence. Finally, Murray said: “Well, I’ve read it. I love reading it.” He mused for a moment, then, “Perhaps we should set up a computer in the dining room where we can all read it every day as we eat.”

“That’s an excellent idea!” shrieked Charlene, who very much enjoyed her food. “Let’s do what Murray said.”

“Agreed!” cried Reginald.

“Well,” I reasoned, “It sounds ok, but I will have to discuss it with UJ, and we must consider budgetary factors. After all, it’s a capital expense.”

Reginald amended: “Ok,” he said, “let’s form a committee to consider the budgetary aspects of Charlene’s idea and to organize approaching the landlord for infrastructure considerations.”

“Seconded!” cried Snerky.

“All in favour?” I added, looking around.

“AYE!” 

 

 

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It’s what we do

I think the old adage is “When the going gets tough the tough get going”?

Well, being tough is what we are all about. We do what we have to do to restore order and calm, and we go where we’re needed to get things put right. When someone of any age needs comfort, a cuddle, good conversation, or just plain ol’ company on a cold winter’s night, that’s where you’ll find us. 

We are made for love, and that’s exactly what we do.

So, what about you?

What were you made to do?