My Pet Rock

There are many advantages to having a rock as a pet, none of which seems like a great idea to tell your family or friends. Somehow I don’t think they would understand.

But I have one, and his name is Rocky, age unknown. He has never been told that his original reason for his adoption was to be put into the rock sweatshop to labor 24/7 as a paper weight, which would make him sad. So I continue to build his ego by telling him that he is my muse.

He sits patiently on my desk and watches with admiration as I type on the keyboard, his face stone cold from expression. Sometimes out of the corner of my eye, I catch him giving me a condescending glare, he knows that he was placed on earth way before me, and this somehow gives him the attitude that his wisdom is far superior to mine.

When I run an idea by him, he quietly contemplates his answer, and I can almost hear him say ‘after so many years on earth, this is all you have?’ Other times I find him rolling on the floor from laughter. Not too long ago, I found him wrapped up in paper, and it ran through my mind that maybe he was trying to escape to join his other rock friends in the landfill. Should I give him his freedom, or would he think I abandoned him?

There are time he turns his back to me, and as much as I find this insulting, I can understand his frustrations, after all, I did break my promises not to curse and to quit smoking.

When I’m sad he somehow sympathizes, while other times he teaches me to be strong. His friendship is never ending, and thinks I look good in my little black dress.

He has been known to wear paper hats, loves to hide under Kleenex, and occasionally ends up with food on his face. He has fallen into coffee and sometimes falls flat on his face, or turns upside down, but he’s never embarrassed around me, he just makes me laugh.

He gets angry with me when I tell him he’s going to be a rock for Halloween, he thinks that is too boring, but he loves Christmas because he gets to wear tinsel.

We sit and watch the sun rise together, and he likes the rain. He rarely looses his temper, and in the quiet of the night when I’m busy on the computer, he sometimes reminds me to go to bed by falling over on his back.

He is smart enough not to tell me his political preference,  although I am sure he'll want to know if he's covered under the new health plan.  I don't know what kind of rock he is,  but he is my rock, and I adore him.