GROUP NOTES: Jonah, keep the goat locked up and in service, boy.

Turn off all the cameras, no one's watching you.

Go in the backyard and feed the bitch. She's your spirit animal. Nestle your vertical hand between her shoulders blades in a faux karate chop and give yourself this allowance: fuck her nerves. The bond between you pours like honey. At first it stretches way down on its own time (in love with the plastic of course, but peep this, only extending the anticipation like a good girl should), but then the kiss, oh, pushing through that bottleneck pipsqueak. How do you have the energy for it darling? That's when the nerves go away. Right there. The easy flow.

She looks stupid. She tries to eat metal.

There's so much more sleuthing in this direction if you want the group's respect, support and approval. What does she feel like? Let her spit at you and try to escape over the too tall fence. The little lessons your enclosure will provide add up to quite a curriculum. Do you see now? You're taking a journey together, and this isn't a videotaped long way home, you've got a formal report due. Namely, touch her.

Nature isn't just something to talk about. It's the invisible ribbon between you both, and you're talking in different languages to describe it. Thing is, guide each other.

You're both in for a treat, I suspect.

Be Fearless,
Doctor Eight