The Emotional Eating of Chairs

1. Talk about a good healthy appetite! Saki ate Karen Fontana’s chair. Sorry Karen.

2. That used to be a ball.

Today I watched Saki and Ish run around for an hour or so. But, every time they ran through the backyard, Saki stopped to look at the chair that was parked on the walkway looking very much out of place. “Something is out of place,” he kept thinking. And he was right. I mean, what would an indoor chair be doing sitting in the afternoon sun?

I guess Saki forgot that he had eaten the chair, and Joan put it outside to strip it of its remaining stuffing. Maybe someday she’ll reupholster it; maybe she’ll never get to it. But, it certainly can’t stay in the house with that yellow foam spilling out all over the floor. Good thing Saki didn’t eat Aunt Judith’s couch or Uncle Tony’s sculptures. Wow. Talk about a disaster!

The problem is that Saki is afraid to be left alone—that is, without humans to reassure him with their honeyed love talk. So every time someone has to go to work, he gets all abandonment-issued and turns to emotional eating. Chairs, curtains, bedding, socks—anything but the hundreds of toys scattered all about for his amusement. Dr. Phil? Cesar Milan?

Once, long ago, I must admit I ate the tv changer.

Best wishes, Juno