Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The wounded heart. Such an easy pet to keep. It seems to find the most inventive of ways to feed itself,
water itself,
pet itself.

I've tried to leave it on the porch of a neighbor. It has an uncanny sense of direction, always finding its way home.

I kicked it, once. It wimpered a little, but like any slightly broken beast, it came scampering back and coiled its tail beneath its legs and lay at my feet in repose,
in a pile,
in submission.

I called the number on the box, hoping it to still be under warranty. I was left disappointed, for the company only doles out refurbished replacements. And, the replacements, they say, come with no warranty at all.

I keep my days short, in hopes the nights grow long. I heard from a consumer report discussion thread that the wounded heart likes to heal itself, in the dark.