Now that I have gone beyond the Lost Backyard through Ivy Pass, I am beyond all reach of help. There are no food dishes here, no water bowls, no pig ears, no Nylabones. If I am to find the Lost Kong and return to civilization alive, all I can rely on are my own wits, here in the Kingdom of the Myoporum.
I don’t really do “Wordless Wednesday”, just because I like words too much. That said, here’s a pictorial that comes close. I call it Determination in the Pursuit of Futility.
Now that I have learned that the Lost Kong can be found somewhere beyond the Side Walk, I know what I must do to find it. I must explore that vast savannah where stuffies go to die, where monstrous creatures burrow beneath the surface and great birds of prey soar high on thermals and huge flocks of crows blot out the sun. I must explore … the Lost Backyard.
Rumor has it they used to worship red Kongs around here. You know, the kind that look like insulators from power lines or the rubber bump-stop from an old Volkswagen. But one by one, the Kongs disappeared. The superstitious say that the gods took them back up to Paradise; others, that the Kongs never existed at all except in the minds of the faithful. Me? I think there must be some truth behind the legends. And I aim to find out what it is.