Life Changes and a Kangaroo

There is definitely an inverse relationship between the amount of spare time I have and how much writing I do for pleasure. The more free time, the less writing. People who know me well know that I have turned to writing as a form of therapy during difficult times. That’s why, when I have whined over the last several months about being underemployed, I have often heard, “Well, at least you have plenty of time to write!”

And you know what? It’s worked as a cheer-up line. “Yeah,” I would say, “I guess I do!” But, it would rarely happen. I did write a little bit: I started many short stories, but, as was pointed out to me in my bi-weekly writing group, I have failed to finish more than two of those. And I haven’t returned to those two for any kinds of revisions.

Now, the first day of my second week is almost over (don’t worry, I’m on my lunch break) and I have already noticed a major difference. Since last Monday, I have written eleven journal entries. The last entry date before then? August 24th! According to my journal, the last ten months didn’t exist. I am also writing my second blog entry after a four-month absence. In addition to that, I am revising the screenplay I write for Screen Frenzy in April. Maybe Adam is right—I need to be overworked in order to function properly. Ok, those weren’t his exact words, but it was something like that. Unemployment was grievously detrimental to my mental and emotional well-being, and I am very glad that it is over!

But enough of that! Many people have already heard, but over the last couple of weeks, we have had a nightly guest in the house. He is gentle and quiet, keeps mostly to himself, and only eats his own food. Overall, he is a decent roomie, although he can be a bit smelly. Also, he’s a marsupial.

His name is Melbourne and he’s a baby kangaroo! A joey, I should say. Laura’s boss recently acquired him for her Pets Rule show at Sea World. He is too young right now to stay at the park, so we’ve been keeping him at our house. He is still bottle-fed, and receives kangaroo formula every few hours. There’s not much to caring for a joey. In the wild, they spend most of their time in their mother’s pouch. Melbourne has a fuzzy synthetic pouch that approximates a real one. He instinctively knows that’s where he belongs. If you hold it out in front of him, he dives right in, head first. So that’s mostly what taking care of him entails: holding him, much like one would hold a human baby, while he sits in his pouch.


Melbourne has a little tent that acts as his home. He is happy to just sit in his pouch, in his tent, thinking kangaroo thoughts (which probably aren’t many, I have to say). Occasionally, he’ll want attention or to be held. He will let us know by making a strange kind of “ahem” sound, kind of like a mix between an ahem and a hack. When we hold him, he doesn’t do much other than look around or try to chew on our hair. He is also fond of using his hands to grab my face and try and bring himself closer so he can munch on my beard. It was cute at first. This behavior usually precedes bottle time.

Our dachshunds, Bell and Cheswick, show some curiosity, but mostly they are content to sit on the couch and watch television. Melbourne really hasn’t been much of a bother as a roommate. Of course, that would change if he were a full grown kangaroo. For now, he’s just a baby. Oh, we also have a pigeon named George, but he couldn’t care less about the kangaroo.