We’re winding down on my Jane Goodall life, wherein I exist only with animals, as I will be fully vaccinated this weekend.
I guess I don’t KNOW that Jane Goodall only lives with chimps but that’s how I see her. Living way out in a hut somewhere, among primates. There’s no, like, Rhoda Morganstern human neighbor popping in. No Larry from Three’s Company. No Wilona from Good Times.
And speaking of current and modern, one thing I do know for sure about Jane Goodall is she picked a hairdo and stuck with it.
One could maybe guess that chimps don’t have a lot of hair salons, and perhaps this is why the constant updo. But I’ll bet even the primates are looking at each other going, “Oooo oooo oooo! Wish Jane would change it uuuuuppp!”
Chimp talk. By June.
Not that I am one to talk about hair, and anyway I just digressed. My POINT is, soon I will be able to be amongst the living, sort of, and all my blog posts will not be about my pets. However, today is not that day.
BTW, I do have an eye appointment today, as they are holding my contacts hostage until I get my eyes examined because I whistled at a not-hot girl, and I will probably get the COVID three days before my shot is fully effective. If this happens, I will be most put out.
Anyway, animals. My Jane Badall life.
First of all, I woke up in the middle of the night to find that Iris was using my open hand as a pillow. I think maybe I fell asleep scritching her cheek and so did she. I did not dare move, and now I probably have a kidney infection along with my COVID. She seems maybe a little perkier today, although it’s 8 a.m. and she hasn’t packed a lotta living in.
Also too, Edsel. That is my other Jane Goodall-living-with-animals story.
Last night I ordered Panera, as I forgot to defrost the chicken to make my Hello Fresh thing, and I think I don’t LIKE chicken. I think I overcook it or something, maybe. But lately the texture is bugging me. Anyway, I ordered the Panera salad with (wait for it) chicken and strawberries and blueberries and mandarin oranges. You know that one? And I asked for different dressing but they gave me that stupid poppyseed one so now I will test poz for the heroyyne along with my COVID and my broken kidney.
I once saw a movie where a character pronounced “heroin” “heroyyyne” and I have never gotten past it.
My point is this.
I was happily eating the salad despite the stupid poppyseed heroyyyyne dressing, when I noticed Edsel’s head in the Panera bag. Why was his HEAD in the bag? The food was with me. Was he doing his Unknown Comic impression yet again?
He emerged from said bag with the bread. You know how Panera gives you that really good bread? I love that bread. When I get Panera, I save said bread till morning, then I warm it up and put a little butter and honey on it. Why the stubborn pounds?
But there was Eds, bread in his maw.
“Goddammit, Edsel,” I said, and reached for it. Which is dumb, because did I actually want the bread now?
And that dog, that GODDAMNED DOG, tug-of-warred me with the bread. He didn’t drop it in shame. No. He DUG IN, and PULLED his side of the bread with all his might.
What a JERK.
Finally, I wrested the loaf from his jerk-ass jaw, and then I was all, Well, now what?
one more time, like he was a starving peasant and not someone who had just enjoyed his kibble-filled dinner moments before, and he began RIPPING the bread like he was Henry VIII at a long table. He just needed a pimp cup of wine.
By then I was really just interested to see what he did with bread and no thumbs. He didn’t miss a crumb, that ass.
It was a few hours later that I heard his stomach rumble. He was practically a dressed turkey, so much bread was in him.
“Rrrrrrrr–roowwww-mmmm-wrrr,” offered Edsel’s stomach.
“Good,” I said. “I hope you feel like hell.”
“Rrrrrrr, PFFFT!” revealed Edsel, and this is when the gas started, resulting ultimately in me letting him out at 3 a.m. I was awake anyway because I was admiring how I was Iris’s pillow. Once she moved, I let the Pillsbury Dogboy out. I imagine he went out and produced some bready stool. It was upper crust, possibly. I do not know. I did not accompany him and his BREAD ASS.
So, in sum, did not enjoy the little loaf from Panera yesterday.
Jane Goodall, reporting from Greensboro.