Scratching an itch comes naturally. Most times we don't give it a thought, we let our subconscious seek out the place that begs the work. Other times when feverish with thoughts of possibilities, you scratch before the itch starts.
So it goes with considering seconds. You think a second dog isn't any more work than one dog. This is companion math. Two parrots isn't any more work than one parrot, then you have eight parrots. Companion Math. You don't need a calculator for it.
Cali and I are poking at each other with adoptable dog links. At night, as the day winds down in the bird room, I'll find a dog face available for companion mathing. I lean over the table between my couch and his chair. "Look babe! Look at that face."
He'll look at my phone screen to inspect today's menu options. "He's cute."
"Angus needs a friend."
"Where's he at?"
We discuss this particular adorable option a bit more, I snuggle Angus while he rests his head on my lap. "You want a brother, don't you handsome boy?"
Angus has no clue I want to crush the perfection he's created for himself around here. His tail thumps the leather in a dull rhythm.
Cali sends me links presenting faces named Harley and Hunter. So many variables for companion math. I get names and faces mixed up. Cali straightens me out with a smiley face. I message back, "I'm too senile for another dog." We laugh.
Companion Math Ping Pong is underway. We scratch an itch that exists in the romantic sense. Because what a house with 8 parrots, 2 lizards, 2 guinea pigs, a rabbit, and a stupid pony needs is one more dog.
I now stand here editing Jack Crow Knows for the third pass. My mind wonders and I open messenger to visit Cali's links of faces. I scratch.
Out of the midst of sounds of eating parrots a lone voice speaks his truth.
"That's up to you."
Felix reads minds. Things just got awkward.