Em had a bit of a strange look on his face this afternoon. I noticed it, and so did Jay when he got home from the painting project he was working on. Of course, I’m powerless to do anything about it since I can’t speak, but Jay isn’t because he can. He measured the moment.
“What’s on your mind?” he quizzed Em.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m a bit worried about Rusty.”
This caught my attention, and I looked up at them both.
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“Well, it’s probably nothing, but don’t you think he plays with his cock a lot?”
I just about snorted kibble all over the kitchen floor.
“I think it’s called a rooster,” Jay interjected.
He was referring, of course, to the lovely rooster my Auntie Dee brought with her from Toronto.
“Well, what other choices does he have?”
“Just that brown thing over there.”
He paused a moment.
“You mean, the only things he has to play with are his – ”
“And his – ”
He paused again.
“I think maybe we should give him some alternatives.”
“Something blue, perhaps.”
“Oh yes,” Jay affirmed. “Wouldn’t want him to go strange on us, would we?”