Christmas 1994 
They were new-born when I got them ... E. T. and Connie Chung. For ten years they loved me, ruled me and entertained me. I will never forget them.
Back then, I was fond of saying, "Hey, everybody, E.T. is learning his ABC's and he's up to a B now." For all those long years he was always "up to a B now." He was a darling student. We had our routine all worked out.
"Come here, E.T.," I'd say, "We've got to practice your ABC's. You don't want to grow up illiterate, do you?" And good ole E.T., who couldn't care less about being dumb, would hurry to take his seat on the floor facing me. Eyes dancing. Mama was gonna play her silly game again and he was more than willing to humor me.
"Here we go, E.T.," I'd have my best schoolteacher voice going. "Say Aaaaayyyyy."
Wiggling his sturdy body, every muscle straining with concentration, E.T. would finally choke out a small thin bark quite unlike his normal speaking voice.
Quick with praise, I'd say, "GOOD BOY, E.T.! Now, say Beeeeeeee," and again he'd twitch, scrooch up his wrinkled face and force out that weird little non-bark.
"Wonderful!" I'd cheer, "Now try Ceeeeeee."
But, no, the lesson was over. My star pupil was running wild, bouncing off the walls with sheer joy of accomplishment.
Back then, I was fond of saying, "Hey, everybody, E.T. is learning his ABC's and he's up to a B now." For all those long years he was always "up to a B now." He was a darling student. We had our routine all worked out.
"Come here, E.T.," I'd say, "We've got to practice your ABC's. You don't want to grow up illiterate, do you?" And good ole E.T., who couldn't care less about being dumb, would hurry to take his seat on the floor facing me. Eyes dancing. Mama was gonna play her silly game again and he was more than willing to humor me.
"Here we go, E.T.," I'd have my best schoolteacher voice going. "Say Aaaaayyyyy."
Wiggling his sturdy body, every muscle straining with concentration, E.T. would finally choke out a small thin bark quite unlike his normal speaking voice.
Quick with praise, I'd say, "GOOD BOY, E.T.! Now, say Beeeeeeee," and again he'd twitch, scrooch up his wrinkled face and force out that weird little non-bark.
"Wonderful!" I'd cheer, "Now try Ceeeeeee."
But, no, the lesson was over. My star pupil was running wild, bouncing off the walls with sheer joy of accomplishment.
We put this show on ... E.T. and I ... for grandchildren who truly loved it, as well as for any adult who'd tolerate it. The Avon lady. The Fuller Brush man. Jehovah Witnesses ...
Show over, I'd head for the kitchen to get E.T. a reward. He'd beat me there. Waiting. Connie Chung close by his side. She hadn't done anything to deserve a treat. Connie never did anything to deserve a treat. Still, she collected each time E.T. performed.
As soon as goodies were distributed, Connie snatched E.T.'s right out of his mouth, put it on the floor, laid her fat belly across it and proceeded to eat her own, leisurely, while saving the stolen one for later. E.T. whimpered and scratched my leg to call attention to his sister's crime.. I gave him a second cookie and stood guard while he gulped it down.
My babies ... I loved them so.
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