animal cruelty

Today I was driving home from work, and there was a truck going in the opposite direction. The truck driver stuck his head out the window and let loose a big old gob of spit, which landed right on my windshield. It was so gross. Grosser, I think, than having a bird poop on the windshield, because I have higher expectations from humans than I do from birds.

One time, I was walking down the street in Seattle, and this guy walking past me let loose some spit. I guess he was aiming for the ground, but since there was a slight breeze, the spit stayed aloft and hit me right on the arm. Neither the dude nor the lady he was with thought it was that big a deal, if the half-hearted apology I got was any indication. I suppose it's possible they were on drugs. People spit all over the sidewalks of Seattle. There's not as much walking around in Atlanta as there is in Seattle, but today I learned that even if you don't have to see everyone's deposits of spit on the sidewalk, then you still might have to see them on your very own car.

Look, I didn't mean to get off on such a spitting tangent. I am tired. The whole reason I started to blog was to share this picture of how I was cruel to my fish this past weekend. I thought it might help keep the little guy in line if I put a package of tuna fish right next to his bowl. As you can see from his body language, of keeping still and facing straight ahead, he was not amused. I probably made a bigger deal than I should have in making and eating those tuna fish sandwiches.

Geez, now that I am writing about what I put poor Alvin through, I feel I kind of deserved that spit globule. I am the worst fish owner in the world. I am sorry, Alvin. I promise to never chunk you up and mix you with mayonnaise, dijon mustard, onion and relish for a sandwichy treat, no matter how hungry I may get. Please don't spit on me.