I learned it from Dad, although he was much better at it. He would have those compost piles smokin’. I’m in the city, but some country boy ways never leave. You don’t put that stuff down the sink, you put it in the ground.

Now it occurs to me I’ve created a pet. A shaggy, too-dirty-to-come-inside pet. When it’s healthy it smells the forest floor. When it isn’t, it smells like the garbage disposal. I feed it the food it needs and it starts smelling happy again.

It stays in the back yard and doesn’t do much of anything. Except it does. Slowly.

It’s like a really boring dog that Nigel doesn’t hate. A dog made out of lawn clippings and kitchen scraps.

It’s not a demanding pet, and it’s easier to keep alive than a jar of sea monkeys. Or the toads like the ones I used to keep in a terrarium once. (Poor toads. You deserved better.)

Whenever I can I feed and water it. Nigel pees on it.

It shows its gratitude by getting smaller.

It may not be as exciting as a dog or cat, or the rare sea monkeys that actually hatch, but I raised it and I have a responsibility to care for it. (Sorry toads from when I was a kid.)

Digging through YouTube looking for compost songs and most of them were just too ridiculous. So is this, but I can’t resist. Apparently Lorraine Bowen is a minor celebrity in Britain. She’s been on Britain’s Got Talent and other shows. Go through her channel. She is very good at ridiculous!