Yeti is real.
He has been spotted on several occasions here in the black hole between Harmony Grove and Lodi.
As a matter of fact, at this moment he is fast asleep on top of the back cushion of our couch.
I was able to snap a picture of the elusive creature.
We call him Tuna.
Some say he is a monster.
I don't think so.
He is a punk.
And he is hardly elusive.
Especially when it rains.
When the sky opens up, he is underfoot.
Tuna hates rain.
Yeti still goes to the door.
My sweet Sven turns the knob.
Big Foot stares at the wet deck.
He sticks a paw out, only to pull it back in.
Yeti is an optimist.
A positive thinker with a brain smaller than his monster feet. He returns to the door several times within minutes, full of hope and spunk, certain that things will be better.
Only to be doused.
This in turn causes a slow mounting rage that builds deep within the creature.
There is one thing Big Foot hates even more than rain.
Boredom.
Which is brought on by rain.
"Tuna reminds me of a little kid," said my Sweet Sven.
"Why?"
"He's moping around."
"He's mad because it's raining," I said.
"I opened the kitchen closet and asked him if he wanted to go in and explore," said Sven.
"And?"
"He just shrugged. So then I asked him if he wanted to go hunt for mice in our bedroom and.."
"Why would he want to hunt for mice in our bedroom?" I shrieked.
"It was just an idea, Millie. I am trying to help him out."
"You told me all the mice were gone."
"Well, he doesn't know that," said Sven.
"I remember the last time I told my mom I was bored," I said. "I was about eleven."
"You do?"
"Yeah. She said, how about ironing the clothes in that basket? Or, take the dust mop and swish it under the beds. Or, No. Wait. Take your brothers in the wagon to the grocery store. Here is the list."
"Well, my suggestions are fun," said Sven
"Maybe you should suggest that he wash his giant filthy feet."
"You sound a lot like your mom."
Thankfully snow does not bother our little Sasquatch.
He loves snow.
And winter is coming.
This is wonderful news on many levels, including the lower one where Grandma Meow Meow resides.
You see, she and The Abominable Snowman do not see eye to eye, unless it is about clawing each other's out.
So.
Grandma's upstairs adventures depend upon the whereabouts of Big Foot.
She comes up when he goes out.
While believers are snapping blurry photos of the legend, she drinks milk out of his bowl, nibbles on his food and sits on his step.
"Tuna might be bored," said Sven. "But he is still fast."
"What happened?"
"He just grabbed my hand through the railing. I didn't even know he was on the other side."
"Well, I'm glad he found something to do."
