Wait...you mean you were able to acquire the donkey after all?
How did I miss that?
Ah, well...let me not bypass this unexpected opportunity, for—as we all know—a donkey on the balcony is worth two in the bush, and a stitch in time gathers no moss.
By which I mean, this is Our Big Chance to find out whether donkeys are like cats, in the sense that you think they're "yours", but you're really theirs.
Should you find yourself possessed of a free moment away from landscape viewing (surely, one must exercise one's superpowers in use-it-or-lose-it fashion), aficionados of The Street will surely be indebted to your conducting the aforementioned felinidonk observations.
I, for one, look forward to your report, should you accept this mission in the name of scientific inquiry.
It’s a training wheels donkey. I’m not sure it’s fit for scientific work. Especially since the accident. And I should always be more careful and not run around the house with sharp objects. And so now Deefa (short for Deefa-donkey) is more like Deefa-deflated. Maybe I should get a cat instead.
Ah…I see; a blow-up donkey. Ever the pragmatist that you are…I should have known. It spares you the effort (and aroma) of having to pick up the…er, “droppings”, as it were, not to mention the recurring expense of fodder in these trying and uncertain times.
Yes…I can clearly see the advantages now. If an unexpected guest arrives at dinnertime, the Inflato-Donk’s place at the table can be vacated without too much braying to make room for the new arrival.
And, as an extra bonus, there’s no need to “deflate the quadruped”, as the old saying goes. It can be thoughtfully positioned so as to induce in the guest a subtle sense of being watched—“This is Pneumatico, a cherished family member. He loves to watch people eat.” Not enough to justify a rude request for removal of the donkoid, but just enough to ensure that guests don’t get any ideas about overstaying their welcome. “Oh jeez…look at the time! I really must leave to prepare for a dental appointment next week.”
As far as the prospective cat is concerned, I’m not sure it’s a case of either-or. Why not both? In fact, it might be advisable to keep the donk around just to keep the cat on its guard. That teensy bit of uncertainty might be all that stands between your retention of some autonomy and complete subjugation to the cat’s ascension to Supreme Authority Of The Domicile.
Wait...you mean you were able to acquire the donkey after all?
How did I miss that?
Ah, well...let me not bypass this unexpected opportunity, for—as we all know—a donkey on the balcony is worth two in the bush, and a stitch in time gathers no moss.
By which I mean, this is Our Big Chance to find out whether donkeys are like cats, in the sense that you think they're "yours", but you're really theirs.
Should you find yourself possessed of a free moment away from landscape viewing (surely, one must exercise one's superpowers in use-it-or-lose-it fashion), aficionados of The Street will surely be indebted to your conducting the aforementioned felinidonk observations.
I, for one, look forward to your report, should you accept this mission in the name of scientific inquiry.
It’s a training wheels donkey. I’m not sure it’s fit for scientific work. Especially since the accident. And I should always be more careful and not run around the house with sharp objects. And so now Deefa (short for Deefa-donkey) is more like Deefa-deflated. Maybe I should get a cat instead.
Ah…I see; a blow-up donkey. Ever the pragmatist that you are…I should have known. It spares you the effort (and aroma) of having to pick up the…er, “droppings”, as it were, not to mention the recurring expense of fodder in these trying and uncertain times.
Yes…I can clearly see the advantages now. If an unexpected guest arrives at dinnertime, the Inflato-Donk’s place at the table can be vacated without too much braying to make room for the new arrival.
And, as an extra bonus, there’s no need to “deflate the quadruped”, as the old saying goes. It can be thoughtfully positioned so as to induce in the guest a subtle sense of being watched—“This is Pneumatico, a cherished family member. He loves to watch people eat.” Not enough to justify a rude request for removal of the donkoid, but just enough to ensure that guests don’t get any ideas about overstaying their welcome. “Oh jeez…look at the time! I really must leave to prepare for a dental appointment next week.”
As far as the prospective cat is concerned, I’m not sure it’s a case of either-or. Why not both? In fact, it might be advisable to keep the donk around just to keep the cat on its guard. That teensy bit of uncertainty might be all that stands between your retention of some autonomy and complete subjugation to the cat’s ascension to Supreme Authority Of The Domicile.
But there are no guarantees.
The cat might be kept on guard by my running around the house with sharp objects anyway.