Bodhi leaves half eaten apples, and the occasional pear, all over the house. I find them beneath couch cushions, on side tables, in sock drawers, abandoned and discarded, rotting. Bodhi is all about that first bite, the conquest. A dozen clean and shiny apples arrive in the fruit basket every week, each one new and unexplored. He waits, knowing if I see him I will take the apple, cut it in half, remove the seeds and offer it to him. In these instances, he eats the entire apple, leaving nothing behind but he doesn’t ask me to cut the apples. He prefers to grapple with what is too large, too much and more than he can ingest. Bodhi approaches life like half eaten apples, nothing needs to be finished, it is about the next great thing, the next forbidden something to monopolize his interest.