i have to feed mister juneberries by left hand whilst feeding my self with the right, though sometimes visa versa. because you see the park district, in their infinitely small wisdom, cut all of the low hanging branches mister loved to browse, so a thug and criminal, small type, cannot hide in the juneberries like fairy tale wolf. i know right, i was raised on fairy tales too. and that is why i have hands. to wash my other, and to feed you. two for two.