Here she is, Champagne, perched in her favorite spot. It has become her favorite spot since she has been incarcerated. She stares outside longing for one of those supervised visits that come too infrequently. From time to time she has a spat of retaliatory house destroying. It typically involves eviscerating a roll of toilet paper yet more recent vindictiveness has aimed at the successful destruction of the lace curtains in the dining room. From the inside, my dining room looks like a set from Addams Family.
Champagne is incarcerated because she has been determined to be allergic to: mould, mice, two kinds of mites, salmon, certain trees, honey bees, grains, cereal, wheat, flies, rabbit, and…oh the list goes on.
She got outside yesterday in a masterminded escape plan and ran like the devil was after her. She ran and ran. As if she knew where to go exactly… run run and go to find that food she loves somewhere in someone’s house somewhere, somewhere, run, they’re after you, those hateful jailer with their baby talk and foul food.
She came back full. Full bellied and fully reactive to whatever she munched on. Was it worth it Champagne? Is the limited ingredient food
that awful? Now we sit face to face and question why it is that she is made this way. In between serious moments we have warm facial compresses (she, not me) and herbal anti-allergy goo, and tasty snacks from a loudly shaken bag (trains her to come should another escape occur).
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