Six Weeks

At the six-week mark, it was hard to tell Gerald apart from the family Goldendoodle, Diane. Out of reach of a working stylist, It was as if he’d lost any tether to his former life in capital investment completely (choosing to reveal himself as part troll doll, with wild explosions of hair coming out of the top and bottom of his face). “Cripes,” Annemarie muttered, watching Gerald grunt off into the woods to have a wee on their river trail “safewalk” (no more than 6 couples allowed in the park at one time and confirmed reservations only, please). And, “OH MY GAWD, GERALD!” Is what she yelled, infuriated, when he wandered back onto the path without pants. “YOU ARE SO DISGUSTING!!!” she shrieked, getting right up into his face promising that they would pretty much never have sexy fun time again in this life. The Bigfoot, confused about the creature in front of it (the other one marking the tree had been so quiet and friendly) and blinking against the increasing volume, pushed back when Annemarie gave it an angry shove. All of this made the national news, of course, and the awe of discovery was mixed with hysterical laughter from sea to shining sea. Annemarie was a good sport and gave several interviews from her hospital bed.