Speaking of books, I mentioned in a Christmas post that I had been given a book entitled Enslaved By Ducks about a pet owner’s gradual loss of autonomy, but didn’t know the author’s name because one of my dogs had already chewed up the cover and title page.
Thanks to the readers who googled the book and gave me the author’s identity, but by then I had received a very nice note from The Enslaved Himself, Bob Tarte. I’ve now started the book (betwixt and between boning up on my knowledge of The Whigs), and so far it is both wise and hysterically funny. And at the point of the book I’ve reached so far, Tarte only has a couple of parrots and a deceased rabbit, far short of the menagerie he ultimately assembles. But he’s already captured the odd psychology of the Pet Owner, while amply illustrating one of my own favorite maxims: a long series of logical decisions can add up to an absurd conclusion.