Precious memories from a man-child and his deer:

When I was just a young man-child with little concept of the world around me I had a beautiful deer that I raised from a fawn. His name was Tommy Shanks and he loved me and I loved him. We grew up together in a colossal sweatshop on the far side of Trout Lake. We were orphans, see, and we were sold into a forced-labor camp to make leather slippers and maple syrup, but it wasn’t bad as The Fifth Estate would have you believe. At least not for me because I had my best friend, Tommy Shanks, as company. Me and Tommy spent twenty-one years on that labour farm churning out thousands of quality beaded slippers and later, designer handbags. To be honest, I’d be the one doing most of the intricate needle work because Tommy was a deer and struggled sewing with his clumsy hoofs. It was a cool morning in October the last time I saw Tommy Shanks, my friend and confidant. He told me he was tired of the exploitation and was going to make a break for it. He said he was going to try his hand (hoof) at acting. We embraced then he jumped the fence to greet his new life. I sure hope things worked out well for him. I loved that deer.”