Sunday, November 1, 2009
It could be the sugar. I hope it's the sugar. Because Zeke did consume an astounding amount of sugar today. Normally of course we don't let him, but it's the day after Halloween, so we decided to roll with it and let him eat all he wanted...for just this one day. You'd think we would have learned our lesson after the Easter debacle, but no—we did not. So he freely gulped Tootsie Pops, 3-Musketeers bars, Smarties, and M&Ms all morning. And for the most part we didn't see any side effects. But then in the early afternoon I was unpacking a box from the bottomless garage, when I ran across a giant stuffed fish that someone gave me in college (I think—I honestly have no idea how I acquired the fish, but feel like college is the most likely scenario based on the other items in the box).
Zeke immediately spied the fish and asked if he could have it.
“Sure,” I told him.
So I went back to unpacking and Zeke spent some quality time with the fish. He took it for a ride on his trike. Ate lunch with it. Bounced on the couch with it (yes, we allow that). And bounced on the bed with it (we allow that too). It was much like the turtle courtship of a couple weeks ago, but somehow more intense. And by the time I went to put him in bed for his nap, he proclaimed that Fishy was his “favorite friend ever—even better than Catty.”
“Better than Catty?!” I asked, astonished (since Catty has been his best bed buddy since he was born).
“Yes, better than Catty.”
He then went on to clarify by explaining that “Catty's heart only goes to here” (arm extended as high as he could reach), “but Fishy's heart goes all the way to outer space.” (If you've ever read “I Love You This Much,” you know the significance of how high someone's heart goes.) This was different from the whole turtle thing because the turtle was a play friend, but there was never any discussion of him unseating Catty as the king of the stuffed animals.
I was stunned. In the space of three or four hours Zeke and the fish went from being total strangers to a committed and seemingly exclusive relationship. Now that is a whirlwind affair if ever there was one. Even pop stars have the decency to let a new romance percolate for five or six weeks before dumping their previous flame and running away to Vegas, but not Zeke.
And the weird thing is that this fish is not appealing in any way whatsoever. It is not cute. It is not soft. There is no fur. It is just a fabric fish. A bass to be specific. It's appeal is entirely inexplicable. Unless it's all just part of the massive Halloween sugar high. Maybe he comes back down to earth tomorrow and re-installs the cat as his one-and-only (assuming that the cat is willing to overlook the dalliance with the fish). I hope so. I'm rooting for the cat. Something about the whole fish thing feels a little rushed.