Wit is not like a dog. It doesn’t always come when you call.
But then again, neither does the dog. At least, not mine.
So wit is like a dog. At least, like my dog.
Then where is wit, if not running to meet me? At the fence, barking at all the other wits? Should I be hanging out at the fence for inspiration?
I have taken the comparison too far. Wit is not trotting back and forth at the fence.
But then again, I haven’t once mentioned wagging tails, dog food, chasing balls, or a hundred other doggy clichés.
If you ask me, I have shown restraint.
I wish wit came when you called.