Yesterday Kris and I were having a text message conversation concerning my coming to Seattle for the weekend. He said I would be staying with him, and Montana and Hunter would also be there with their pet “log.” I know what he meant to say was pet “dog,” but either he mistyped or his phone recording misheard him.

When I saw what actually came through I started to laugh. Then I thought about it and realized a “log” would probably be a right pet for me.

It wouldn’t need much care and attention, it would just lay where I put it until I decided to move it. I would probably name it “LOG” or more affectionately, “LOGGY.” It would never demand anything from me. I wouldn’t have to feed it. I could carve my initials on it. If I wanted to take it for a walk it wouldn’t cause any problems unless it was a big log, then I would have to pull it in a wagon behind me. 

If I passed a dog on “our” walk, I wouldn’t have to worry about it barking unless it was an old log. Then some of its bark might fall off and I would have to pick it up. At least I wouldn’t have to carry a “poop” bag. I would have to guard against the passing dog feeling the need to relieve itself on my log. 

Finally if my pet “log” gets old and develops dry rot, or heaven forbid becomes home to a colony of carpenter ants, I could simply build a fire, Viking-style, and bid it farewell while roasting weenies.

Ken Kaiyala
11-8-2022