Love. Ode to Mr. Klonks: & "The Art of Racing in the Rain."

Sleeping's my favorite.

This is a Flemish Rabbit. You haaaave to click that link. Will not regret. (Yes. They exist.) I need one. Until then, ... I have this guy.

(That's Klonks' Facebook page. Strongly suggest you like it.)

 * * * 

I'm handsome & cute.

This post combos Easter/Overall Spring-time celebraish with my love for Klonks with my newest fav read. An Easter platter/smörgåsbord of sorts. 

Flemish Rabbit gummies
(C/o the Easter Mama ... my mom.)

New York Times Bestseller.

Warning: Could induce
sobs, 'specially
late-night sobs

This novel, given as a 27th birthday present to me from the rooms (Ms. Lauren Seeley, who I've been friends w since 5th grade & who just so happens to be my 1st iTown friend), is pretts great. How do I know? Like 2 ppl immediately responded to my tweets about it. (No one ever responds to those suckers.) So good job Stein. Ya' made it. ...Oh, and it's a NYT Bestseller.

The picture you see is Chapter 18, which pretty much sums up why I j'adore this book. But by pg. 3 or 5, when our narrator (Enzo, the dog) introduces this concept, I'm already balling. Balling. (More on that... .) 

Me + Klondike
(I'm a pretttty good fake sleeper.)
(That's a dollhouse. It's fully furnished.)

You see ... I have this theory. (#NoJudgment .) Mr. Klonks: he's my soul mate. Not the theory. Fact. Just is. I could elab, but it'd be an entirely different post altogether. In short: ever since the night that the 85 year old's front end slammed into the side of my dog's 2-yr-old rib cage and sent him yelping/spinning/tumbling legs-over-head down my parents' street, and ever since I spent that entire night spooning his good side as he lay, tired & bruised (and absolutely FINE, thank God and thank pitbull breeds' sturdy builds...) at the foot of my bed, we've been like this. (Fingers interlocking.) He's my baby-doggy Mr. Puppup Kloooooooonks. He is my soul mate. Here's the theory: 

Only get 1 soul mate, right. Well if Mr. Klonk is mine, then for me to meet my human soul mate, Mr. Klonks has to pass

...Crazy talk... 

* * *

Waiting for the Flemish Rabbit.
Or Easter Bunny.(Pffft. Flemish Rabbit.)

Late at night, laying in my bed, I get to pg. 5. Enzo discusses how, when he passes, his dog-soul will pass into a human's-soul ... and he will greet his Master as a human. Yup. Are you kiddingggg me??? This, I do not need to hear. That a stranger (this author) agrees with me, I do not need to know. Understand, also, earlier that night, I read my horoscope. Never read my 'scope. (Anymore, anyway.) That particular night, my horoscope said that I'd hear something bizarre. That it would be true. That it'd be hard to accept, but that if I just adjusted my most rational thinking & listened to my intutition, I could accept it. To do so would be to know the truth. Finish pg. 5. (What if?) Further into my read, Enzo shares that National Geographic aired a docu about how Mongolian culture supports this (Ch. 18). 

.Sobs.

Late-night-cry sobs. Like when you're 8 and you see the starving child commercials and then, 3hrs later, go to your dark & lonely bedroom all full of peas & applesauce and you remember that some

children are starving so, snot drenching your pillow, you cry. Yeah. That was me. Like, everyone's more vulnerable/emotional at night. Not not-normal. No?

 

His best Flemish Rabbit Impression.
(Pretts good.)

At the end of the day (and a good long cry), I don't really care if it's true. At the end of the day, I still have Mr. Klonks. He still has me. If I'm waiting for anything ... it's for a Flemish Rabbit.