So, it may have come to some people’s attention that I have been remiss of late in updating my blog. In my defense I have to say that I have no defense. Except, well, my pet parakeet died. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. Tragically.

Now I don’t want people getting the wrong idea that I’m the kind of person who has a pet parakeet – you know, one of ‘those’ people. Actually, I’m not sure where in the gamut of pet owners, parakeet owners lie. Like at one end of the range are people who have a goldfish and at the other end there are the people who own a kraken. Or a Chihuahua. Casting it a bit more narrowly I believe that parakeet owners lie somewhere between cat ladies and those people that own several dozen exotic (exotic = animals that will pull your arm off and play with it like a beloved squeaky toy till they get tired of that and eat it). I fail to understand the kind of emotional need people have to own an animal that considers you a tasty snack. Why not go and throw yourself underneath a Zamboni? The results are much the same and look at all the money you’ll save on pet food.

So, although my pet parakeet is gone, it’s not as heart breaking as one might imagine since it was after all, an imaginary pet parakeet. I have a whole host of imaginary pets, childhood friends, business associates and family members. They regularly shuffle on this mortal coil and are swapped out with new imaginary replacements. It’s sometimes hard to remember their names but that’s why I now use Bento, a very nice database tool. Also, a Japanese lunchbox, the more you know and all that jazz. I mean let’s be honest, who really wants a real parakeet? Awful things. Squawking all the time, pooping all over the newspaper, probably have some sort of feather born lice or something. Oh, and bird flu. Imaginary pets are much better. They don’t ruin the furniture, consume untold quantities of expensive pet foods or require trips to the vet. I recommend them highly.

My imaginary parakeet having passed on, or as we Python fans say – “He’s pining for the fiords”, and the traditional period of mourning for a pretend companion having now elapsed, it is past time to set myself back to the grindstone and start writing again. So here you are. Happy?


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