Henry wandered into a particularly aggressive patch of weeds on Sunday.
As you can see by the photo, the weeds managed to arrange his ears into a light-hearted up-flip, and in the end, the only way to disentangle him was to remove large chunks of fur.
He now looks somewhat worse for the wear and also (because of the haphazard nature of the fur removal) distinctly off-balance.
I have taken to calling him Lopsided Joe.
I was out in the backyard with him this morning and I said, “Come on, Lopsided Joe, let’s go.”
He came running toward me with his patchy-furred, clueless self; and I felt my heart fill up with love for him, and for the whole of this off-kilter, inexplicable, glorious world.

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