Flustered but Fine

These past few days (has it been a week already?) have been eventful for me. I do not wish to speak of my rather foolish display six days ago. The last entry that I posted was met with nothing but apathy by one who I assumed to be a good friend. I suppose it is possible that Platypus (my dear, I still have yet to find his name) was under similar conditions as me, but if not, I must resign myself to looking like a right idiot.

I have been unable to reach the computer since my last entry due to a ... well, it's a long story. A few days ago, the family mutt whose name is Maggie, came bounding into the eldest child's room, where I had been staying. Before I was aware of her presence, Maggie swept me up by the handle and carried me out of the room, clenched in her strong canine jaw. I was then paraded around the home, dog slobber collecting in the nooks that her teeth were making in my handle. Of course, no one noticed... not with the vacuum blaring in the background.

They didn't hear or see her take me outside in her doggie door, the plastic flap bruising a few of my French feathers. I begged her to un-mouth me, but I was still jostled out to the lawn. Maggie abandoned me in the garden and ran off wagging her tail as if she had completed a great mission.

I conversed with the tomatoes for a while... they spoke to me of the woes of aphids, and told them of my own plights with dust mites. They understood me well. That night it rained. The tomatoes were rather happy, seemingly chirping with the buzz of fat new rain droplets to nourish them. I told them that I hated being wet, that it ruined my feathers and made the binding on my handle loose. They let me hide under their leaves... and one little tomato was brash enough so suggest that I was trying to STEAL their rain, and urged that I take shelter immediately. I kept one of my feathers bent just over his stem. If either of us had eyes, I'm sure we would have been glaring.

Dear me, I think I've gotten off track again. I finally got back in the house through a series of tragic episodes that included mud, mosquitoes and a cardboard box, but I'd really rather avoid discussion of that. My optimistic feathers are urging to write that I am now safely within the house, if not a bit damp, but at least sheltered again. Then again, I'm that much closer to the vacuum. It's humming again... but I must be off.


I still love thee Ornithorhynchus anatinus.