Jan. 11, 2020

Part of my 9th book- Tales from a misspent youth

 The ultimate in decadent plutocracy- This morning, I fed the Costa Rican Brown Jays with two full packets of smoked salmon. My wife already has a profligate reputation at the weekly farmers' market, for hand picking best-quality grapes for Simone the parrot. The vendor loves to share her extravagant behaviour with nearby stall-holders and local customers. This creates much mirth. At another stall, the seller has learnt that offering a free, special mango and her cry of, “For the lora!” generates weekly visits.
In fairness in Newport Beach California, we found a shop selling diamond collars for dogs. There were yummy-looking cakes too. Inside, Valentine’s days cards probably read ‘From Fido to Fifi. I cannot wait to sniff your butt tonight.’
Across the US, visiting hairdressers charge upwards of $300 for weekly canine shampoos and cuts. There are ads for pooch hotels at $500 a night. In these, beloved pets get their own suites, each with a bone shaped pool. Compared to this and thousands of dollars of vets bills, while much of the world suffers want, we are positively restrained.
A word of self-justification. The smoked Salmon was inadvertently left in the car for a few days after a shopping trip. With unusual care for my wellbeing, my wife stopped me getting botulism by serving it up.If it had been Scottish wild salmon, we would surely have risked it.
Daily, with her inate instincts from her McFrugal ancestors, she dispatches me to feed the birds with the peal from our breakfast mangos, pineapples and papayas. I also put out Simone’s leftover oatmeal porridge and seeds. Simone rules the house, only accepting the best, fresh fruits and food, hurling anything substandard on the floor, with earsplitting squawks of rage. I have tried this. It never works for me.