WPC: Work of Art

We stand in awe of the beauty of flame which truly is a work of art, supreme and sublime in nature. 

We just love to sit and watch the flickering of a nice, warm candle.

How about you?

 

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The Dabbit

As you can see our resident dabbit is a real stand-out guy.

What’s a dabbit, you say?

Half duck, half rabbit. 

Dabbit.

 

Whatever will be

 

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WPC: Perspective

You’ve got to see things from our point of view. 

We are just so darned agreeable, but even so we’re not always treated right. I know, it’s probably not deliberate – sometimes people just don’t know they’re being hard on us. Like children – they get exuberant, and we get that – but some other things people expect are just not right. 

Like the memorial thing – that’s a sore spot for us. We get the emotional segue – the feelings we engender approximate what people feel about their lost loved ones. But we can’t forget that it’s cold out there in the rain and the snow, and that even though people give us this function for a reason, we feel we could be a lot more useful giving someone a hug. 

So we take to the airwaves. We try to help people see our true value – that we could be so much more than people let us be. Here we are filming an SPCSA infomercial. Snerk’s the spokescritter – you know – because he’s so cute. 

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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: Home

You’re never more grateful for home than when you’re going away for a while.

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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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Mea Culpa

You know what it’s like to be busy, right? Well, I sure do. Let me take you through the start of a typical day around here…

First, we get up. We have a meeting in the morning – a breakfast meeting, with fruit and krullers (stuffed, of course) and juice. At the meeting we discuss what we’re going to do that day, what the hot topics are, who’s doing well and deserves recognition and who is struggling and needs extra support. We plan our activities and set our budget, then we get on with our work to make sure that we accomplish what we set out to accomplish. 

Well, that’s all well and good, but the other day Murray, my moose friend and Vice President stopped me after the meeting and took me to one side:

“Sidney, old boy, hate to bring this up, but don’t you think publicity has suffered a bit? I know we shut down the website, but it’s been positively ages since you wrote a blog entry.”

I had a sinking, hot-coal-in-the-stomach, swoony kind of feeling then as I realized he was absolutely correct. I looked at him, my eyes full of gratitude and appreciation and all sorts of other deep, deep feelings. 

“You are absolutely right, my dear Murray, I’ve been horribly remiss. I will attend to it immediately.” 

We hugged and I saw a look of satisfaction in the dark, beady little eyes parked way back at the top of his enormous nose.

Well, effective immediately with great regret but eagerness I have moved the Society’s Public Relations portfolio to the top of my priority pile. Snerky volunteered to take it on – he’s such a stalwart – but his grammar’s not that good so I told him I’ll let him help with the pictures. 

So, my apologies. I completely lost track of time. I feel terrible. We’ve been working away at our projects but I just haven’t been publicizing them, except by guest spots in other places. 

Anyway, please read back to refresh your memory on what the SPCSA is all about, and read forward to learn how we continue to get it done.

 

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Homework

Today UJ woke me up early.

“Hey, you gotta type your own blog today, I think I’m getting carpal.”

I looked at him, dazed, and confused.

“You’re going to pull a car where?”

“No no – carpal tunnel syndrome,” he held up his right forearm, “here, in my wrist.”

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“It does seem to, yes. It’s like a numbness in my pinky finger. The other night it actually woke me up.”

“I’m not jealous,” I said. “But then, I’ve got my own troubles.”

“Like what?”

“Like the pooch.”

“What about him?”

“He keeps looking at us like he’s hungry.”

“Well, he usually is. Does this really bother you?”

“A little. I’ve taken care of him before, lots of times, but he’s bigger now, and the last few times we set-to it’s taken a lot longer to subdue him.”

“Can’t you reason with him?”

“Ha! He’s thirteen pounds of stubborn, obstreperous determination, sometimes even you have trouble keeping him in line.”

“Good point, though I will always win.”

“That’s why we’re such good friends.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Nah! You’re kinda cute, too!”

I mean, I must occasionally say something to make him feel good, mustn’t I?