All Warm And Fuzzy

posted by oscar wilde @ 11:33 AM Permalink

Everybody gets them, well most everybody.
You know what I'm talking about, the animal moments, the ones that make you go ahhh, and you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Pictures of small furry animals, "dog might loose foot" stories; "Fearless dog snatches new born twins and confused granny from the jaws of death as runaway train/car/boat/plane..... those kind of moments.

I get them too, never more so than when someone has captured it on film for posterity.
Those lovely ahhhh moments, when the bull gets it just right and the matador gets it all wrong.
Those lovely moments, captured for all time, allowing us to replay that precise moment when the deadly horn of that much tormented, bloodied and weakened bull enters the soft vulnerable flesh of it's tormentor.
Those lovely but fleeting moments that as the horn takes it's upward and sweeping path on it's way to gore and disembowel, wishing and hoping that as this deadly spike follows such a curve, it has been fortuitous and removed certain appendages, appendages that would more commonly be described as manhood, but alas a misnomer in cases such.

Those ahhh moments that give way to moments of excitement, moments that are not unlike those to be found in shall we say, a football game.
It's the last minute of the last quarter, your team has possession and it's all to play for, and as the play commences you find yourself screaming at the TV set, shouting words of advice and encouragement, giving little thought that such words go unheard and are entirely irrational, the blood is up and the moment is at hand.

But for myself I have always found these moments to occur at the beginning of a match, before one side has even made an opening gambit.
Whilst still strong and not yet bloodied, the less fancied of the contenders in this uneven match takes the initiative of surprise and leaps headlong into the fray, and instantly the game's afoot.

As the bull shakes off it's confines, and with charge and leap clears the barricade into the unsuspecting but much surprised specimens of failure that I will not honour with terms normally associated with our species.

As the peerless and priceless mask of horror sets the faces of these collective failures, I, like the football supporter, irrationally scream my instructions, and as such my support, "left go left, that's it, wonderful connection, straight on now, two with one stone, yes trample that son of a bitch, and yes the bitch herself, a quick flick of the head that's it, oh doesn't she look good on the end of that horn."

Every dog has his day, on occasion the bull his glory, and me, a warm fuzzy moment.

But for these much to be pitied, poor defenceless creatures, no Captain Ahab moments as they dive the ocean depths with their tormentor strapped to their backs, entangled in his own tools of death, tools that in turn would visit upon them and their families and companions their own deaths.

No Ahab moments alas, only moments of respite as this race of despicable failures hound you to your deaths in the name of "Scientific Research"

I hope your bloody boat sinks and takes every man jack of you with it.

Oscar Wilde.
Feb 12 07