|This Pilgrim looks like he's had a|
few leftovers too many.
To my solution: it is simple, indeed. One's dog would be most grateful, especially if they, too, were in kennel pent. And if anyone is getting my Keats allusion, they would have been in complete agreement with David McCullough, Jr. as he spoke about the necessity of reading at the Wellesley Free Library Thursday night. (The Swellesley Report nicely distills the talk here. ) To those who didn't have the pleasure of being inspired by another fine English teacher, John L. Mahoney of Boston College, here is the link to Keats' poem from the Poetry Foundation. Read, and breathe.
But I digress, as usual. Back to leftovers. They're a constant problem in my house, and I suspect yours, too. So you left your precious family member at the kennel. Feel a tad guilty? Especially when said pet comes home barely able to speak? Erase that guilty feeling with a generous helping of turkey, ham, squash—whatever.
I gave my own leftovers to the lady down the street. Not food, of course–too precious—but clothing. I dug into my closet and came up with a Halloween costume that never quite worked. Not only am I rather averse to costumes, this one in particular had a strange duality: Pilgrim plus witch. What were they thinking?
This particular lady down the street, I suspected, would not mind this ahistorical issue. The heiress to a large cement bunny that perches on the edge of her property, she has embraced her acquisition with humor and verve, dressing it for various occasions: beads and fringe for Mardi Gras, patriotic wear for the Fourth. You get the idea.
In turn, I had the idea to bequeath this unusual gear, plus an angel costume of my predecessor Sparky, to the bunny. I figured the heiress would know what to do with my bequest.