Not Taking It Anymore (Walks)

I’ve returned to my old ways, my refusal ways, my recalcitrant ways. Ever since the people started shooting off firecrackers on Memorial Day, I’ve found it a terrible prospect to walk anywhere. Joan coaxes me, “But, Juno,” she says, “You’ll get fat again.” I don’t care. “But, Juno. You’ll miss smelling all the new smells.” No big deal. “But Juno, that’s the sound of someone hitting a baseball; it’s not a firecracker.” Nothing can convince me to move. So I sit in the yard where life is predictably slow. If loud noises occur—which they do—I just go inside.

Now, Joan walks around the neighborhood with Shane and Saki, and the people say, “Hey, where’s the big black and white one?” And Joan just shakes her head sadly, “Oh, she’s too scared to leave the yard.”

Me? I’m fine in the yard. Let the others tangle with the elements. Elements aren’t for everyone, you know.

Best wishes, Juno