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Title: Oh, Good Grief!
Summary: Some people have wa-a-ay too much time on their hands.
Style: Gen
Size: 515 words, about 1 page in MS Word.
Warnings: None
Notes: Written July, 2004. Snippet in response to an Internet picture.
Feedback: Not necessary, but every comment is treasured.
Email: If you prefer not to post a note that everybody can see, you can reach me at starwatcher -at- dreamwidth.org





Oh, Good Grief!

by StarWatcher





Jim glanced up from the evening newspaper as he heard Blair's snort of amusement; his partner was ensconced at the kitchen table with his laptop in front of him. The snort had given way to soft chuckles.

"What's up, Chief?"

"I swear Jim, some people have wa-a-ay too much time on their hands. You know that old saying, 'Idle hands are the devil's playground'? Here's one cat that probably thinks so."

Picture is here.

His curiosity piqued, Jim ambled to the table and peered at the laptop screen over Blair's shoulder. He saw a dour-looking Persian cat, glowering out at the world from under a football helmet that had been carved from the rind of a lime; the animal certainly looked ridiculous. Jim grinned in tandem with Blair's reaction. "Well, you have to admit, it's... creative," he pointed out. "And at least it'll come off easily. It could be worse."

"Oh yeah? I know little girls like to dress up their pets, but shouldn't a grownup be above that sort of thing?"

"Nah; adults are worse than the kids. I remember when I was a kid, I was walking down an alley with some friends. We passed a back yard -- well-kept, green lawn, trees, flowers -- and barking at us through the chain-link fence were two little white poodles. Well, they had been white, originally. One was dyed pastel pink, and one was dyed pastel blue -- with matching bows in their top-knots, of course. We treated it like a huge joke, even me, but I felt kind of sorry for them; I always imagined the other dogs laughing at them."

"Oh, gross!" Blair muttered. "Some people have no couth."

"Couth, Chief? Is that an actual word?"

"If it's not, I just invented it. People are adding new words to the English language all the time; I might as well contribute my share."

"Well, I have a few words that might take your mind off the pets of people who lack 'couth'," Jim suggested.

Blair leaned back and glanced up at his friend. "Oh, yeah? What words are those, big guy?"

"Dinner. My treat. Lasagna at Marelli's."

"Hmmm..." A judicious frown creased Blair's forehead, then he nodded decisively. "Yep; I think those words just might do it." He grinned as he shut down the laptop and stood. "Gotta say, Jim, there are times when I really like your linear approach to problem-solving. I'm with you all the way."

"Thought you might be. A full belly makes the whole world brighter. I'll bet even that cat forgave his owner after a plate of tuna."

"Yeah, but man, ya' gotta wonder about the cultural mores or skewed thought patterns, or whatever, that leads to this sort of thing." Blair shrugged into his jacket and preceded Jim out the door. "You know, some other cultures occasionally dress their animals, but it has religious or ceremonial significance. In fact..."

Jim shook his head in fond amusement as he locked the door and followed Blair to the elevator. He'd probably learn more than he ever thought possible about people's decoration of animals in different cultures, but it would be informative, entertaining, and probably good for some tales in the break-room when Blair wasn't around.

Nope; dinner with Sandburg would never be boring.



The End



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