A man’s needs and wants change with the years. I remember wanting a slot car set one Christmas. A guitar another time. Paint by numbers, cameras, books, records, clothes by the rack full, digital anything.
This year I asked for – and got – a backscratcher. Twelve hours since I opened that metal beauty with extendable arm and there is not an itch anywhere that is even dreaming of sneaking up on me.
But our dog and two cats have discovered the darned thing too and I can see that a great deal of time will spent by me in 2016 scratching their little bodies into states of blissful submission.
However, discord has arisen as they fight over whose turn it is next, and in the case of the dog, whether cats are worthy candidates for scratching. (Spoiler Alert: He has concluded they are not.)
I have already made up my wish list for next Christmas and there is only one item on it: Another backscratcher.
I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.
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