Paul Bacon

I never remember to trim Crackers’ claws. With my endless to-do list, somehow that bullet point never makes it on the sheet. And sometimes that omission comes back to bite me.

CLAW CLAW CLAW.

Crackers was hanging by one claw from the kitchen shade.

SNAP.

There it went. There was no fixing this one. But a patch job was always possible. A red chip clip did the trick. Yali watched the repair, then pointed at the shade and applauded my efforts.

“Ma! Ma! Ma!” he yelled in approval.

It was sometime on the ride home that Puck asked me to legally change his name to Paul Bacon.

“We read a book in school today and the guy who wrote it was named Paul Bacon. I want my name to be Paul Bacon.”

“Paul Bacon?”

“Yeah! Just add it to the end of my name!”

“How about just Bacon?”

“I like Paul Bacon. … Or Paul Bunyan!”

After I explained the legal process of changing one’s name, involving courts and judges and newspapers and fees, Puck didn’t seem quite as enthused. But still, what eight year-old boy wouldn’t want the last name of Bacon.

On that note, guess I should have served up bacon for dinner, but I didn’t think of it soon enough and made fish tacos instead.

That evening after I trimmed Oxbear’s hair, I watched Stephen Piscotty slide head first into Peter Bourjos’ knee in the outfield of PNC Park in Pittsburgh. Out cold: head contusion. In retrospect, I’m shocked he didn’t shatter his jaw. Not a great way to begin the final stretch of a pennant race. This team has been beat up black and blue.

Puck’s Monthly What-do-You-Want-to-be-When-You-Grow-Up Status:

“A scientist.”

CARDINALS:

St. Louis: 3-1 win against Pirates; Piscotty knocked out cold in outfield.

4 games up on Pittsburgh: 99 and 58; 5 games remaining.

Magic Number: 2.