Ah, yes. Seems so appropriate that the phrase, “There is a sucker born every minute,” was credited by none other than P.T. Barnum.
If any one knew about the circus, it was he. Now, I am not aspiring to become a circus. Let the chips fall where they may.
Yesterday the suckers born, which might have been in a minute, but will last for, oh, 4-8 years, was hubby and I. After almost a year, maybe more, we were finally beaten down by the middle child inmate of the insane asylum.
We welcome Mr. George P. Hopper to the household. P standing for PIG, as in Guinea Pig. Middle child calls him Georgie, son calls him Pig, I call him Mr. Hopper, and little one calls him Torch. Hubby calls him nothing. Seems appropriate that we should adopt an older, forgotten guinea pig, and give him a total identity crisis.
So, Mr. Hopper brings the total count of animals to five! Three dogs, one cat. That count does not include Norman Betta, the other fish (which I have not learned their names), and Cavy, the fattest frog who has outlived his life expectancy, yet keeps on floating.
I am working on a family animal act, hoping to take it on the road this summer. Guarantee it will be one of a kind.
Making the fish costumes with all my free time. The frog’s costume is taking way more fabric than I have on hand. Let’s not forget to send in the clowns, think I have a few of those too.