“I love you more than the dog, okay?” I say to my husband while winking at the dog.
“Chase a ball? Toward what end? I mean, can I eat it? Oh. Can I bury it? Oh. Can I roll it under the bed? Oh, I see. Can I move in with the neighbors? Oh. Can I wake from this nightmare?”
“This kibble has no au jus? Do you know what you’re asking me to do here? Maybe you thought you were feeding some other dog. Was that it? Am I onto something? Anything?”
“So what you’re saying is, it’s not time to eat? Is that your final answer? This is for the one million dollars. Would you care to call a friend?”
Guppy fish actually enjoy having their bellies rubbed as much as dogs. Sadly, this fact remains impossible to prove.
Accompanying me in the forest, my little dog’s muddy penmanship.
Berti complains that I prepared him for the pain of surgery, but not for “the wearing of the Victrola.”
“You have tens of thousands of shoes. How do you know one is missing?”
The day will come when you wonder if your dog can read your mind. This is normal. And yes, he can.
I know only eleven months until Christmas. I’m on it! Don’t stress me! I’ve got 2 ponies and a bubble machine at my neighbor’s house, right now, though I’m thinking about giving the dog his ponies early.