It is raining cats and dogs… lovely weather for ducks! I am bored stiff, you know, like an oyster; this is the reason why I am writing.
Writing relaxes me, I feel like fish in the water, it liberates me from being a dogsbody, always busy as a bee, with an albatross around my neck and although I fight like a tiger, sometimes I put my head into the lion’s mouth. It happens because I am stubborn as a mule; an eager beaver but a hen at last.
You see, some people can be qualified as an animal, this way a person can be a fat cat, an eagle or a shark or perhaps do monkey business. Others may be slippy as an eel, quick as a squirrel, shy like a mouse or traitor as a rat. Those, who are strong as an ox, do donkey jobs and end having a dog life. But there are those who reach sitting ducks and those, who say fish stories.
All of this, made me think in one person that assembles a lot of animals in himself. Only, his name gets ants in my pants and puts bees in my bonnet.
I want you to be my scape goat, because in my opinion you are a war horse, so I am going to talk turkey and let the cat out of the bag.
I met someone, who is a green eyed monster and made me feel many times as an afraid lamb. But now, I realized that he is a goose, ( I beg my pardon to geese, because they are not so stupid) less than that, a cockrach, a bug.
In fact, he is the black sheep of the family, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a big bullshit who rides the hight horse and seems a peacock but by the contrary he is a dead duck, a birdbrain, worse than that, he is for the birds, neither fish nor fowl, a real fool pig headed, a guy telling cock and bull stories. His lies, go me ape and from time to time I dream of giving him a rabbit punch.
He is a dog in the manger, a fox crying crocodile tears. So I am decided to take the bull by the horns, and tell him that there are no flies on me; that finally I became the dark horse.
If you just might tell him that: “Everydog has his day”, “The early bird catches the worm”,” A bird in hand is better than two in the bush” and that “When the cat away the mice will play” he will understand because every proverb smells a rat.
Please, suggest him that now I am the grey mare which it is the better horse and he has not the dog’s chance of playing cat and mouse with me because I am not any more a gentle lamb. I am a phenix which, that snake will be not able to catch. It would be possible, only when pigs flew. Surely, taking knowlegde of this, he’ll have kittens or get a frog in his throat.
But it is time to hold my horse, because his destiny will be to live as a snail, dragging himself and with horns. horns even bigger than deer’s.
I should think that one swallow does not make a summer and takes on that he is a bird of passage in my life.
To forget him will be like water off a duck’s back. to forget his fish stories will be more difficult.
You may believe that I am a March hare, but not. I am hurt, hurt like a pigeon. And I am going to finish this letter, because I have other fish to fry.
Your zoological friend.