Home: Part 4

What follows is a work of fiction. Nothing here is either true or relevant. Read at your own risk. Do not expect anything, and that's exactly what you'll get. Oh: This could go on for awhile.

January 1958 

I was born with a flipper attached to my left knee. More precisely, I had no shin or ankle below my knee on that leg, just, as my father said, "a floppy little thing that wasn't good for much." So, just a couple of days after my birth, surgeons removed the flipper and I was then free to evolve in my own way.

Tiger tended to pull on the leash as we walked, and I had to be careful in the snow and on the slick concrete. I was stable, for the most part, but I was also cautious. "Slow down, Tiger." I pulled back on the leash several times before he finally got the point. We did a loop around the block, and half an hour later we sat in the basement and watched reruns of Superman.