I’ve finally moved in to my deluxe apartment in the sky. I’m in a third-floor condo. It’s great. But sometimes I get lonely. While the association allows dogs, I just don’t have the time or energy for such a large pet. So, I’ve opted for a smaller one. It followed me home one day. It literally flew in the door. No, it’s not a bird, it’s not a plane, and by NO means is it Superman or Superwoman. It’s a fly. No, not the one between my legs! My fly has wings and I’ve named him Buzz.
Buzz is a great pet. I NEVER have to feed him. He just finds whatever is lying out and snacks on that. He sampled my spaghetti the other night—and gorged himself—I could see his shadow flying around the apartment—he looked pregnant he was so fat (but we all know a male fly can’t have babies. Can he? Well, no matter, because I’m not sure if Buzz is actually male—but I’m non-discriminatory when it comes to pets). That night Buzz filled his belly really good, which made him thirsty. So he took a few too many sips of my beer. The only way I knew Buzz was inebriated was when he flew off—all wobbly—right into my dining room wall. But then he got up and flew away, even more tipsy—but he never hit another wall. Isn’t that great! he only hit one wall. I thought he might have died—but I was wrong.
Buzz came to visit me the next morning and rubbed up against me while I was writing on the computer. Like any other pet—he ALWAYS wants to play while I’m working. I shoe him away with one hand, “Leave me alone you SOB” and he goes away for a moment, but then insists upon coming back to play some more. Buzz has made a home in one of my plants in my office. Actually, he’s made a home in SEVERAL of my plants all over the apartment. Every time I try to take him for a walk (in HOPES he will get lost and NEVER come home) he’s moved to a different plant.
He just doesn’t want to go outside. Even when I leave the screen door open (which ANY housebound cat could tell you is an open invitation to go outside), he just stays inside, roosting in his plant. Does he have agoraphobia? If I could get him into the glass jar (does he have claustrophobia too?)—I’d take Buzz to an insect specialist (no matter what the cost!). The insect doctor, would that be an etymologist, (or do they JUST study dead flies, like a pathologist) could analyze Buzz to make sure he’s not having a mental breakdown or brain aneurism (in what little brain he has). I just find it amazing there is NO health insurance for flies. Back in the day, I suggested pet health insurance before there was pet health insurance—but I bet I’m the FIRST to consider fly insurance. And NO I’m not talking about $1 million dollars in life insurance if your plane should crash, or a genital cup or a chastity belt. I’m talking about being able to afford the health and well-being of my favorite pet, Buzz the fly!
I love Buzz, because he is my constant companion. Sure, there are times I’d like him to leave me alone. Like when I’m trying to sleep in on a holiday. If I should accidentally forget to turn off my alarm and it goes off LOUDLY (even if I should QUICKLY hit the snooze button) the clock wakes up poor Buzz (but NOT me). Buzz is so considerate (or is he just trying to get even?) he licks my face a hundred times—to make sure I get up for work (because he doesn’t KNOW it’s a holiday) and makes sure I play with him before I leave (that way he KNOWS I’m awake enough to drive safely). Isn’t that considerate? Well, on these holidays, I'm in a foul mood and yell, “Go away you SOB, I’m trying to sleep.” But Buzz, he doesn't take it personally. He won’t be deterred, insisting upon getting me up. Perhaps, he’s just trying to get me to turn off the alarm clock so HE can sleep. Well, I just have to believe he’s being considerate (otherwise I’d just HAVE to kill him—no more playing!). But I’m sure he's just being considerate—because if he didn’t like it here, there would be MANY opportunities for him to leave. Like when he FINALLY gets me up at 6 a.m. on a holiday and I’m playing “swat the fly”—and he’s flying like a maniac all over the apartment—buzzing like he’s having a WONDERFUL time—and landing here and there—to fool me into believing I’m going to win! When that doesn’t work and he’s tired me out—I open the window, but Buzz, well, he loves it here sooo much, he just flies in the OPPOSITE direction. Of course, this could be because of his agoraphobia. I really do need to have him checked out.
Still, I guess that’s how MOST people feel about their pets. They can’t live with them and they can’t bear to live without them!
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