Today’s Holidailies prompt is to talk about the strangest thing in the room. So I ask you: which one would you say?
The Baby Corral is, well, a corral for babies. Okay, it’s branded as a SecureYard, but it’s really a baby corral. You put it up inside, you put it up outside on a blanket, you unhook it and make a really long gate, or you unhook it and make two long gates. It keeps happy but stupid Black Lab/Great Dane mix dogs off your little baby. It contains your precocious little boy or girl who has learned to roll and rolls all over the living room. It cordons off the living room so your baby can explore to their heart’s content and still be safe. But it’s a baby corral. People use them for puppies, too. I’ve seen them at pet adoptions at the pet store. It’s true. Right now ours has ribbon draped over it that I’m too lazy to get on the Christmas tree tonight.
Then there’s Clive.
Clive is as old as this journal. He’s really been the star of it, if you ask some people. He was raised by a dog, so he acts like one. He comes when he’s called and he has been known to go for walks on a leash. Clive likes people food. I found him at a Chick-fil-a when he was a kitten, and he’s displayed a fondness for chicken nuggets ever since. He also likes to pull lettuce from the drain board after it’s been washed. He’s kind of fond of green beans.
It’s a toss-up, really.