I laughed when my dad bought some Israeli military-issue gas masks for the family in case of some, what, gas-related emergency? You know, it was the ’80s, and dad had a few “survivalist” friends who seemed bent on being able to live in an underground bomb shelter stocked with an arsenal and a convenience store.
But Lomax spends several hours a day under my desk while I’m at work, and I’m not ashamed to admit that one or two of those gas masks would come in handy right about now.
The following is a transcript of an actual telephone conversation I had with Jenny on October 4, 2005:Jenny (reacting): “Oh! He’s sitting right by me.”Amy (in the background, loudly): “Oh my gosh!”The sound of air-freshener being sprayed into the room is followed by lots of commotion and hysterical laughter.Jenny (returning to phone): “It was awful! Oh my. That’s not good at all.”A bit later. . .Jenny: “He’s especially fragrant at night.”A bit later. . .Jenny: “I swear, somebody’s been feeding him cabbage and broccoli.”