There may be a dog for sale shortly.
Might I remind you of our episode last year...
This time it was the dog. She brought me a present. A dead one.
Another black, drowned mouse. Right on the living room floor. Yes, you heard me right, people. She brought it into my house and DROPPED it on the living room floor. As a present. A peace offering. A dinner contribution.
And as I scooped its cold, wet, stiff body up with a spade and threw it into a Target bag -- with its dead feet curled up underneath its belly, its matted whiskers framing its disgusting little nose -- I couldn't even open my mouth to wretch for fear of breathing in some small particle of the plague.
Why do I even post this? I don't ever want to remember it. Someday I'll laugh about it? Not likely. Try me in 70 years.
