The day was simply gorgeous. We saw the sun for the first time in many days and I, for one, was ready to snag my quota of Vitamin D. Grandma helped me in that endeavor by supplying me with a “Bully Stick” of handsome proportions.
With no interest in the activities of anyone else or curiosity about the doings of Lizzie, I trotted forth into the back yard, found my spotlight of sun, lowered myself onto the grass, and began the laborious process of consuming this braided beast.
I lost all track of time and it was only when I began the dreaded gagging and choking that Grandma appeared, falsely praising me for my fine efforts. I know from past history that when she takes that tone and utters those words, that I am about to be separated from my prized possession. I replied with threatening gurgles and rumbles through tightly clenched teeth, warning her away from me. She, undaunted, proceeded to pluck me up and wrench it from my jaws. It was beautiful, honed to slimy perfection…one end still hard and intact, and the other a viscera-like Udon noodle of bull pizzle. How could she be so cruel? I was so happy. So what if I choked and gagged a bit? Foiled again by my cruel summer mistress.
Now, here comes the crushing irony in my cautionary tale. The next time I was outside I hid that little piece of heaven back in the woods, so that at a later date I might enjoy its forbidden pleasure. Wouldn’t you know it though, that little ditsy pea brain Lizzie found it, took it onto the deck and proceeded to enjoy it herself. In all of her glorious stupidity, the little twit just assumed it was hers…left for her by the pizzle fairies!
Life can be so unfair at times.