when Kenny has his head and neck stretched across my thigh and he looks off into the middle distance, it's like he is a disillusioned fop from the 18th century, slowly becoming aware of his own mortality... Oh, he goes, I am but a wiff. And though you feed me I will waste away. And though you take me for a gambol in the park, my bones will sigh to the ends of the earth on the long sad oceans of time.
Then he does one of those sighs that comes out of the sides of his mouth and makes us want to stroke him. No, do not try to console me with your pats and strokes. Leave me, lest you catch my cankerous melancholy. Oh poor Ken!
We should get his eyebrows bleached. It's bloody tragic. If ever you get like that I am going to bleach your eyebrows too. That is what they should do to all the sad sacks.
Thank goodness for Princes Park! It's hard to believe he is the same dog soon as you get him out there. It's almost like he is Prince.
"My name is Prince, this is my parky.
My name is Prince, my parky warky."
Funny! Both of those personifications of Kenny involve him wearing frilly cuffs. Maybe he is a sickly queg? Also, there is a link there to Bonnie Prince Charlie. I think he wore frilly cuffs, and was named after dogs, and Charlie is the American Pit-bull that Ken tried to bum yesterday. It's like the frigging twilight zone round here.
Seriously though. I would love it if Prince came to Prince's Park and did that song.
Rincy Pince, Prince and Kincey Wince.