All Creatures Great
My dog’s only defect is that she can’t hug me. Her arms don’t bend that way.
This is frustrating because a reciprocal bearhug is the only way for me to express the feeling caused by her extreme cuteness.
Without a hug to exorcise the feeling, I fall on the floor, slain by the cuteness. While saying “I love you I love you I love you!” I gnash my teeth as if I’m powerlifting.
I have a mouth guard to keep me from eating my teeth at night, but I need another one for encounters with the dog.
She’s so cute, I grind my teeth to powder. I shriek like a monkey.
I want to bite her head off.
What a strange human reaction to overwhelming cuteness. We’ve all heard cannibalistic grandmothers say to babies, “I could just eat you right up!”
Personally, I’ve never met a baby I want to eat. Dogs, yes. And cats.
Rabbits very much.
I have a love-hate relationship with rabbits. They’re a dangerous combination of devastating cuteness and tragic idiocy.
No rabbit I’ve ever met has been smart enough to detect my good intentions.
Their empty heads don’t allow them to see the love simmering within the man stalking toward them with talon-hands, eyes watering, and a face full of grinding, cracking teeth.
Fear not, rabbits. This is simply my innocent and foaming rabbit-love.
Or maybe, do fear.
Because expressing this love nonviolently would require the impossible. It would require a bearhug. Bearhugging a rabbit the size of a truck hugging me back until my spine crackled with bliss.