August 6th, 2014

Dark and Stormy Night

It's A Wet Dog's Life


            Sometimes I wish my dog could talk. Other times I realize how very, very good it is that he can’t.

            Bae—we named him Beowulf, although for all I know he thinks of himself as Mxyplictic—must think we’re crazy. We cut our nails without complaint. We put perfectly good food in the trash can and then don’t let him sample. Worst of all, we get wet on purpose.

            “Wait – you’re going in there again? But that’s the room where all the water sprays down. Don’t climb in there! Water! Oh, the humanity!”

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