Buford smiled at the memory. “I couldn’t resist them; and I figured that, since you had been in no hurry to get fed, there was no reason for me to get in any hurry to feed you either: That rubber hose certainly wasn’t going anywhere.”
No, it certainly wasn’t going anywhere, thought Tiffany, not after Buford’s sleight of hand had made at least a good three feet of that stiff rubber hose disappear somehow into her backside. Tiffany knew from experience that, no matter how much she squirmed, it would remain cozily ensconced there, snug in its burrow. She would have to provide shelter for the stern intruder lurking in her backside until Buford decided to coax it out of hiding, but until then it wasn’t going anywhere any more than she was going anywhere in that condition. The hard rubber sealed her back door tightly shut while at the same time holding it achingly wide open, open enough for Buford to feed her her largely liquid diet by means of the dark tunnel that ran the length of the hose; but for the time being the feeding, and Tiffany, would just have to wait: Buford had found better things to do.