Thursday, February 23, 2012

A long-time neighbour of ours, who is an outstanding example of what can happen to the human form when inadequate care is taken to the things that matter, like proper nutrition in adequate amounts, and a sedentary lifestyle resulting in morbidly gross obesity, emailed me a few photographs she had taken of a tiny red squirrel that has taken to visiting her property.



She has a deep appreciation of nature, although she is confined to viewing it, unable to immerse herself in it physically. For the past several years she has put out peanuts around her porch, for visiting squirrels, and a few black squirrels have set up domestic shop because of the reliability of their food supply.

Our neighbour has three beloved cats, one of which is never out without being securely tethered, the other two permitted to roam where they will. It is the Maine Coon cat that she takes such close care of, the other two are not thoroughbreds.

The Maine Coon, in fact, somewhat resembles our neighbour, since its long, fluffy haircoat makes it look very spheroid, as is our neighbour; a perfect sphere. The cat, needless to say, weighs nothing like near what our neighbour does; hold down its hair and it would have a perfect physical conformation.

Our neighbour, on the other hand, is just as she appears, fully rounded, weighing somewhat over 300 pounds, I'd guess about 340. She is of modest height, around 5'-2", and absolutely immodest girth. She is a victim of her flesh, it encompasses her enormously, rendering her incapable of walking any distance - say the several hundred yards it would take to reach the communal mailbox.

She is a pretty woman, which is to say her face is very attractive, and she is intelligent enough with an active curiosity of everything surrounding her. But she lives a life of strict routine imposed upon her by that enormous weight, confining her to a very limited number of activities and spheres.

A victim of a familial environment that accustomed her to this way of life, and of her robust appetite. A poster-child for warnings of the end results of excess.

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