Then there are the emus. Our guide told us that emus are both curious and ill-tempered. They will not attack four-legged creatures, but the will come after humans because we walk upright on two legs like they do. So why have them around? Because they act as guardians for the smaller four-legged species who appreciate them. Emus own “hangry” as an expression. They have zero manners, large pointy, pecky beaks and giant three-toed claws. They remind me of Petyr Baelish from Game of Thrones. And yes, I love them. How has an emu never been a Disney villain?
“I found a belly!” Connor darted out of her room and ran into the kitchen with his shirt hiked up and a heavy flesh-colored false boob slapped on his stomach. He pushed his stomach out proudly.
And there it is: Dark, limpid globes of blueberries set against the tart sunshine of nectarines. And it has to be an oat and honey crumble. No false sugar or bland crust to hide the beauty. Honey to bring in flower nuances, Oats to deliver the earthy, solid texture of warmth and home.
He rubbed against her shin and she plopped down, putting the food on the floor between her outstretched ankles. He purred and rubbed his ears against her pink canvas shoe. Then he shoved face in the cat food, grunting happily while she petted him.
“A silver cat with gold eyes!” she giggled. “Cougar’s my friend!”
He’d broken the lock on my door. The magic red box was empty. My food money and Cougar’s food money was gone. I still clutched the envelope and bolted for the window. I slid and jumped before he could get to me. He stood there thrashing, cow face all red, nostrils flaring.
It is a small thing. Not so much a great work of greatness. It is a small piece of love to be added to the patchwork quilt of kindness; the network of loving words spoken about someone when they leave us. It is the muffled muttering of minor stars when a supernova in their constellation flickers out.