My first Big Dream was to free all the world's oppressed people and live in a castle surrounded by a moat filled with alligators. When that fell through due to a typo on my application, I reverted to Plan B: Free all the world’s captive alligators, live in a castle with a moat teeming with piranhas and give away free candy to all the world's children who never flossed and had webbed feet. Inevitably that plan like all the others, came to naught, this time cuz I submitted the application 12 years late and refused to pay the four million dollar late fee. Ever resilient and charmingly delusional according to Liz, the cashier at the local grocery store, I decided to pursue a more realistic and attainable career plan: Improve on the slapdash work of Charles Darwin, secure an annual salary of $425 million (payable in US funds), live rent-free in a beach house on the Galapagos Island of my choice and own an airport hangar stocked with barbecue-flavored Crispers. Unfortunately as they say, (who are they who say?) - the best laid plans of mice and men go awry, especially when you’re working with disorganized mice. Yet again, one of my schemes tanked when the dog ate my business plan. At least I could fall back on my Plan D-, (a capital letter and a subtraction sign that followed me throughout my ignominious academic career). You should always have a Plan D, E and F because nothing ever works as expected unless you’re a Norwegian cross-country skier in the Olympics. My D- Plan was to become a wildlife biologist, but more important, to never wear white socks with brown leather sandals unless I'm at a Star Trek convention. Surprise, surprise - Plan D- came within a lower-case dash to fruition ( _ ) when I was accepted into USP’s (University of Sketchy Programs) discredited, disparaged and disgraced, Krazy Kritters program. My academic advisor, Worf Weinstein, who now identifies as non-binary yet proudly Klingon, advised me that I had to take Intro to Biology 101, the only course at Sketch U where you had to buy a textbook, That's when I threw in the proverbial towel, headed for the hills and rented a humble abode next to the Unabomber. I soon became addicted to blueberries mainly because my humble abode was actually a blueberry patch, a forest hotspot where all the cool hobbits hung out. I lived across a burrow of beagles owned by Guido Baggins, (Frodo’s half-brother), the top hound breeder in Middle Earth and only hobbit not eaten alive by his dogs.
Soon it hit me that good dog food could save hobbit lives and probably humans under 3-foot-6. Thus began my epic journey to save all the hobbit hound breeders, all the dog fanciers under 3-foot-6 and every unsold Smurf in Toys R Us from being torn asunder and devoured by their furry friends.. I vowed to develop the best dog food in Middle Earth and Earth Proper and license the rights in Narnia.
The rest my friends, is history. I moved out of the blueberry patch and into my parents’ basement with my head held high. ( I’m a man without shame or the ability to touch my toes). Assisted by my mother, Mrs. Meady and Santa’s elves, we ground, chopped and sampled a cornucopia of meats, gooey organs and the odd discarded shoe. And while this wasn't anywhere nearly as glamorous and glitzy a life as one might imagine, it was the start of an adventure that has brought joy, satisfaction and robust health to millions of cats and dogs throughout Earth Proper.
Most important however, I have not changed; I’m still the same old delusional fool I always was, because because because because because, because of all the wonderful things I does.
