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May I introduce myself? No, I won’t do that. I’d rather let you guess. ‘Tick MEOW tock.’
My movement is limited to swaying my tail and taking sideways glances out the window. Got it?
Well done.
Nice of you to ask.
My health is good for now, but I must admit to worries. Time is ticking away, you know, and things happen – because time passes and eventually they have to happen. That’s just the way it is. Wait long enough and it happens. Sometimes it’s the kettle boiling or your birthday, but sometimes it’s a helicopter dropping out of the sky onto the roof of a pub while you are inside downing a lemonade shandy. It’s hard for me not to fret when I am constantly reminded of the seconds passing by the perturbations of my tail. The inane wagging as if I am pleased about something, happy to be alive, looking forward. You have got to be joking. Would you? It stops only when my batteries run down. Are you familiar with Wimbledon? Well, imagine watching a tennis match twenty-four hours a day. Now imagine watching a tennis match twenty-four hours a day, only there is no match, just an imaginary one going from one side to the other; and you follow it with your eyes as if there really is a ball and some kind of contest that you care about, or some players, or a score and prize, but actually the only thing keeping you interested is that fifty percent of the time you can see out of the kitchen window to the outside, and outside you can see the sun, the moon, and the stars passing the time just like you.
February 25, 2022