something fishy’s happening at home

Moose is the traveling minstrel Zen samurai who comes visiting.

He makes himself quite a home in my place. (p.s. disregard the rare mess of untucked cord in background.)

Lately he's bounded in with high-stepping bounce and zeal.

I'm under no illusion it has anything to do with me.

And everything to do with:

Paul, his "owner," tells me recently that Moose loves seafood.

I sorta noticed that when he nearly demolished a can of tuna I'd set down to share while making a sandwich. Had I not removed it, I'd have been without lunch. Interestingly, he'd have nothing to do with Fred Meyer's (market) brand. Boy did he change his tune with Starkist!

Moose isn't a foodie. Of assorted dishes presented, including milk, he's gone only for two: Starkist tuna and Costco chicken (again, walking away from other brands).

So I take a gamble and buy Friskies seafood kibble. Now Moose nearly knocks me over beelining it to his favorite sport: fishing.

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