All About Dem Metaphors

Did you know that grapes are toxic to dogs? Just one of those little things could kill your canine friend, or at best make them very, very sick.

My mum has a terrier. His name is Kero and he’s about fifteen years old now. He runs into walls, barks when someone walks past the front window, wakes himself up when he farts in his sleep, and loves to play fetch probably more than most people have ever loved anything in their lives. He likes to have his chin scratched, he has a tail that could wag for Great Britain, and if he sees you eating grapes he’ll beg and whine and want one with his whole being.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Kero will beg for literally any food. He’s a porky little chap who would probably eat until he passed out if he could, which I can honestly relate to as much as running into walls and waking myself up when I fart in my sleep.

Thing is, he doesn’t understand that the grape is bad for him. He’ll watch me with those big brown eyes, licking his chops, tail wagging away as he sits and shuffles his butt around in uncontainable excitement. I’ll tell him no, but he’ll just try and give me a paw (as that generally works), so I’ll tell him more firmly, and he’ll just lay down and continue to watch and wag his little tail at me.

“Kero,” I’ll say, very patiently. “You can’t have this. I’m sorry, dude, but it’s bad for you.”

Alas, Kero is a dog, and has no fucking idea what I’m saying to him. All he knows is that he wants the food, and that Lorna is a soft touch, and if he’s very good and waits patiently, she’ll probably let him have one.

Of course, we all know I won’t, because he can’t have the grape. The grape will make him sick. Possibly even kill him. And he’s my buddy, so I’d never want to do anything that could hurt him, no matter how adorable he is, or how patiently he waits, or how many times he tries to give me a paw.

By comparison to my small, hairy friend, I am not a dog (well… depending on who you speak to, I suppose) but sometimes in my life, I can’t help but think of Kero and the grapes. Sometimes I’ll want something for myself, and I’ll want it so badly that it’s all I can focus on. I’ll convince myself that I’ll get it, that it’ll work out, that it’s meant to be, and I’ll do everything in my power to try and obtain it.

“Lorna,” The Universe will say, very patiently. “You can’t have this. I’m sorry, dude, but it’s bad for you.”

Alas, I don’t know that, and I have no understanding of it. All I know is that I want the Thing. I don’t know why it’s being withheld from me, only that I’m certain it’s coming my way soon, if I work hard or wait patiently enough. Until, like the grapes all being eaten, there’s nothing left for me to have.

Rather than getting disheartened now, though, I try and think of the Thing like a grape. It’s not meant for me. It’s not going to be good for me, and that’s why the universe won’t let me have it.

Sometimes, if Kero has been very good, when I’ve finished my grapes I’ll go and get him a biscuit. He’s allowed these, and it makes him sublimely happy.

I’m just here waiting for my biscuit.