It took R. four months to discover the length of her body. Now she grabs for her feet with a hunter’s concentration, like a cat batting at fish, and rakes her fingers over her pate in total bafflement at this downy, warm surface that is always with her but never in sight.
She gapes to her jaws’ full span, like a basking shark, and says “Aaa. Aaa.” Is it a complaint? We live in mild terror of the screams retuning. Should we respond in kind?
Strangers tell her the oddest things. The last was a hale, white-haired woman in her sixties who observed in passing, “Those look like fun feet.”
Definitely time to start playing "this little piggy..." ;-)
See, that’s what I’m talking about! Horrible, horrible world where pigs eat roast beef....