My emergence into the day could be likened to that of a vegetable being peeled.
It is so cold that I am wearing an enormous furry hat. Inside. Perhaps it is not really that cold; perhaps I just find the feeling of the furry warmth curled around my head very comforting. Conceivably this is why people have cats? I can see the benefits of coming home from a hard day at the office, settling into a cosy armchair with a bottle of wine and a cat on my head.
Bears really do seem to have this whole winter thing sorted out. Just before it gets too cold, eat as much as you can and then pass out until it is all over. I feel a definite kinship with a creature that deals with life’s difficult periods with a trip to the buffet and then a good long lie down. It is a little disturbing however that mating season coincides with possibly the worst morning breath ever. Squirrels get points but I prefer to use a handbag than store my essentials in my cheeks. Then of course there is the enviable lifestyle of seals; get as fat as possible, lie on the beach and clap a lot. Possible downsides; Canadians and Killer Whales.
Perhaps I could embrace the idea of a commune and become a mongoose. Me and the other mongeese could busy ourselves with the needs of the commune; making the tofu and painting the murals and every now and again smack down on a few snakes (ohh dear, Dr Freud). Maybe in our spare time we could work out if we are actually related to birds.
Then of course there are gazelles. Clearly the bimbos of the animal world, prancing around on ridiculously skinny legs flashing arse crack at everyone. Why walk when you can skip! I am also warming to the idea of solving disputes with a good, solid head butt.
If I was to be really honest I would have to admit to being disturbingly much like a goat. Eccentric, intolerant and possessing a penchant for precarious perches. I admit to enjoying sitting out on the occasional ledge ingesting your favourite shirt all the while glaring unblinkingly at you with yellowed eyes. My hobbies could include knitting my own hair and being Evil. If I could lactate and make my own cheeses there would be no end to my happiness.
(This little segue has been the result of suffocation by polyester. When possible the author likes to fly with Cold and Flu pills and stay at Hotel Loco. My hair has been done by no one, not even me and any make up that is on is probably smudged since I fell asleep face down on this desk. Your support of this product is appreciated.)