Sophie Riches, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
By Bill Stokes
Kickass, the doorstop dog, will be napping through the keeper’s lament on the eve of yet another birthday in which he observes that one day you are sung and secure in your mother’s womb and the next day you are ejected in what might well be considered the ultimate act of rejection, to breath your own air and fight your own battles, with your mother’s help, of course, as she spends the rest of her life in an extravagant apologia for what she did to you by bringing you into the world.
Then this day of ejection and rejection comes to be marked for the remainder of the ejected one’s life with joyous parties that includes cake and candles and counting the years of survival as if they are medals awarded in an ultimate war.
And the years are medals of course, and the keeper is so heavily weighted with them that it becomes increasingly difficult for him to stand up straight, or to simply stand up.
So, Mom, you did good way back there in the Model A Ford days by ejecting me: thanks much for a long wonderful lifetime of adventure and love, much of that in your boundless love-adorned apologia.
