on being a real human being

I'm doing things right, I think. I can tell because the universe has given me a new apartment with a puppy in.

This is because God rewards me with pets.

When I was small I would pray for kittens and they would just pop up out of the lenten roses, rain-soaked and mewling. Fur-urchins with fleas on their paws seemed to spontaneously generate from the tangle of brush near the woodpile, and my benign, soft-eyed existence earned me the companionship of numerous baby birds, wayward turtles, orphaned bunnies, and rather affable butterflies.

When you think about yuck and rot that is what you get and so on. I've decided hereafter to channel my five-year-old self. I am going to take on projects for the fun of it. I am going to think about birds and why the sky is colored just so. I am going to pick out nice friends to play with and skip skip away from the bad ones. (If there aren't any nice ones about I will spin some out of imaginings, pink spun-sugar friends that will melt on my tongue.) I will read big books and think of big questions and then draw little pictures that aren't very good. I will laugh and play and listen closely for the sounds that only the very small can hear. Most importantly, I will love the people that take care of me and take very good care of the people I love.

I am going to be good. For floppy ears' sake I will.