Sheepishness

You'll notice that a few days ago, Fluffy and I memorialized our relationship. Because the state of California hasn't enacted the favorable legislation yet, we decided to fly to Massachusetts where it's apparently legal for anyone to marry anyone else.

I crated Fluffy up, and it was off to the aerodrome. After a tearful separation at the cargo gate, I proceeded to check-in and gave up a goodly amount of my personal privacy (and a fine switchblade).

Landing in Boston, I retrieved Fluffy from the cargo hold, and she expressed disappointment that she had not received a snack, until I assured her that no discrimination was involved, and I, too, had been deprived of the salted peanuts. We rented a pickup to go to the cutesy chapel that we had booked, and met the faux-minister who had agreed, for a generous pourboire, to join us in civil matrimony. He looked like Elvis, but without the costume or charm.

There was an abundance of rented flora festooning the room, and I has hard pressed to keep Fluffy from munching on it. She seemed to balk at "'til death do us part," so, at the wedding dinner, I refrained from ordering the lamb stew, which was the speciality of the house.

I have yet to partake of ovine conjugality, because she claims some kind of "feminine problem." We do cuddle copiously, though, and she is true to her name, no doubt because of the lanolin. Her mother, who missed the ceremony because of her fear of flying, is threatenxxx, uh, promising to visit when her health improves. I was unaware Fluffy knew her mother, but it appears gynecological ailments run in the family.

Also, lately, she's beginning to nag me. It's baaaa this and baaaa that. I think this may have been a mistake. Last night, I dreamt about annulment. Stay tuned for more.