Relatable content:
We’ve reached the time of year when I don’t have to go buy flowers anymore, I can just pick them from the yard. Right now, the garden is featuring daffodils. The flowers always have spiders on them, and I carry them back outside when I detect them. I assume this is because, being the only things blooming, the flowers probably attract an unusual number of insects desperate for a sugar jolt, and when they stagger in, hypoglycemic, the spiders pounce!
Also this time of year seems to be when everyone’s minds turn to death. In a single 24 hour period, I received two requests for euthanasia of pets. I read recently that a disproportionate number of human deaths happen in the night hours just before dawn, and just as the tide is turning. Transitional states in every way, I suppose. Now that spring is fully underway here in New England, something stirs in people. They bang out the carpets and throw open the windows, and they look at their ailing, decrepit, dusty old pets and think, “the time has come.” Off I went today to usher my neighbor’s guinea pig to the other side. I slipped her blunt face into a glass jar containing a tampon soaked in anesthetic gas and she was swiftly gone. I came home and drew this:
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