The Bun

The soft, warm creature in my arms twitched as I counted his tiny toes.

“He smells better than I expected.”

“His nose is perfect.”

“His ears look too big for his head.”

The little one in my arms observed the world around him, occasionally seeming to watch me as I moved around.

“What should we name him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we have complete strangers decide?”

“Sounds good to me.”

The Bun. The little bun in my arms twitched his nose as he sniffed the air around him.

“I think he ought to be wrapped in a blanket so he won’t pee all over.”

“Good idea.”

“It’s too warm. Let him be nekkid.”

The little one’s ear wiggled as I touched it. Funny, I mused. Most people think ears that are too big aren’t a trait to be desired. I disagreed. His ears, as well as all of his other parts, were perfect.

“We’ve only had him a day.”

“We can still bring him to Meijer Gardens.”

“How will we take him?”

“How about a cat carrier?”

Our Bun traveled in a cat carrier to and from Grand Rapids without uttering a peep. Or a cry. Or whatever Buns say. Our Bun is Fun.

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Oh–and his name is now Sir Hops A Lot Freight Train.

Because we had a contest among kids at Meijer Gardens, and I liked the name Sir Hops A Lot, and The Husband liked Freight Train.

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