Celibacy

Is this enforced I hear you ask? Am I licking my wounds? If I were a dog I could lick everywhere you know. Some may even hint that I am a dog. They may be right.

Given the disaster I can be in relationships I have two courses of action. Both are celibacy.

I can give my poor sofa a hard time, tossing and turning, feeling dejected, rejected and resentful or I can still in quite peace with myself and debate the fortitude of the Universe.

Having a lunatic around to talk to at times comes in handy. Who else would be interested in my universe? Anyway on my planet there is only room for me and the asylum.

The asylum, a wondrous place, I can even chose the lunatic I wish to converse with. I am after all ‘the doctor’. I decide on the treatment plan you know. As I start my rounds I call on the locked wards first. Here only the most case hardened ‘nuts’ can be found. But where did they come from? The circus may have left town a long time ago but they left behind a couple of clowns and an endangered species or two for me to play with. I put them in the East Wing until Mr. Chipperwhatsit returns. Squirreled away in my asylum I only visit when I need to medicate them. I only let them out once they have been sedated. It’s dangerous to be abroad on such a foul night with this kind of company lurking behind every tree, particularly if they have not been ‘attended’ to first.

Now there is a thought. I could attend to them with some cheese wire and a pair of pliers. Take the knackers away. I think I might even have met one or two in the past who would volunteer to make this dubious pleasure a reality, saving me the bother.

Alternatively I could purchase some more Kleenex and ‘make out’ with the fantasy girls of the internet.

I think it may be prudent for a while to down the grooming brush and leave Crufts along for a while. Maybe even retire.

Who knows? The sofa owns many of my secrets.