An apology to the early-morning joggers who thundered past my garden just after dawn this morning:
Glo is a gentle monster, and as he gets older, he wants more hugs. It’s a quirk of his breed. (Though we do not know his breed other than “monster” and I’m postulating that he’s not the only “monster” who likes to hug more as he ages.)
I imagine that his dropping out of the old elm onto your backs was quite a shock. I’m sorry that his horn hit you in the head; it’s put a hole in my oven door, so I can only imagine how painful that was. He’s really such a sweet creature and he’s been feeling magnanimous and “huggy” for the entire month of June. I’m sure you would have appreciated a Glo hug if only you’d been prepared for one.
I am also sorry that Mordecai responded to your shrieks before I did. My brother excels at many things, but public relations is not one of them. I am sorry that he spritzed you so liberally with his new invention – Memory Enhancer. It only momentarily makes this a vivid memory – soon it will seem like a dream that was incredibly “real”. Useful, yes, but it does smell rancid and he cuts quite an imposing figure in his dressing gown in the mornings. The flight goggles are to protect his eyes from the carnivorous newts he’s been raising in his bedroom. They consider eyelids a delicacy.
I do hope you have a Happy Father’s Day. I’m sure that after some bloody mary’s, a hot shower, and perhaps a barbeque, you’ll feel much more like yourselves. The scars from Glo’s over-zealous hugging will fade soon. And no, unfortunately, no one will believe your story.
But I do. I am currently sipping my morning brew with Glo wrapped around me like a backpack. My brother is listening to Wagner and cursing the airplanes who fly over the house (their flight plan seems to have changed; they’re much lower as they approach the area airports and the noise pollution has increased). Bubo is snacking on one of Mordecai’s carnivorous newts and it sounds like the dragons are either making breakfast or re-wiring the house. Either option is a bad one.
Happy Father’s Day, oddlings.