Buckle and Pat: the True Story (part nine)


It is truly a joy to have pet rocks in the house. They have so many advantages over conventional pets, such as cats or porcupines.

They have never wandered far from home. They made it to the bus stop on the corner, but Buckle couldn’t get up the bottom step of the 6A downtown.

They never rip apart my belongings, and they have never ruined a rug. Pat did borrow my favorite flowered scarf and forgot to return it, though.

They don’t get all excited and race from one end of the house to another.

Not on foot, anyway.

They never bite anyone. I found Pat on the internet researching poisons, but she assures me it’s just for the book she’s writing.

It’s true that sometimes we have had to help them out of a precarious situation, but doesn’t every pet owner have to do things like this?

We keep a stepladder handy.

Yes, in spite of the loud parties, and Pat eating all of my popcorn when we went to see “The Force Awakens,” and them skateboarding through the house, and using sharp knives without permission, and Pat spilling water all over the dining room table after she was TOLD to leave the glass alone, and borrowing my phone all the time, and Buckle watching Netflix until four in the morning, and them eating an entire bag of salt and vinegar potato chips and being sick all night, and Buckle drinking my last beer, and the two of them cheating at Monopoly …

I forgot where I was going with that.


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Just a Chickyn.

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