She was quickly loosing all feeling in her left leg. Hopefully, that irritating tingling sensation in her hamstring would go away soon and she could really focus on the article she had just found in the Economist. Someone had just discovered the humanity gene (?!) in lab rats, and the idea of gangs of the mangy little devils appreciating art and protecting their loved ones while on "field trips" to the pantry was hysterical, to say the least. Not to mention the disturbing thought of a "humanity gene" itself. The tingling had reached her toes, and she was starting to feel a draft. The idea of moving was not appealing however and her mind pushed past the discomfort and wandered into the world of rodent philosophy and benevolence where interior decoration and support groups proliferated.
The dog was watching her from the doorway with those pitiful eyes. He never came in the bathroom, but was effective nonetheless in finally pulling her from the throne. Finally. Wad some paper. Clean up. Stand up. Put down the magazine and enjoy the pain and pleasure of releasing nerve endings and blood flow forcing a tingling sensation like no other. Time for Rupert's walk.
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