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Dogged If You Do, Dogged If
You Don't
A Thanksgiving Storry
The dreaded call came, assuring us once again that she would keep him in the
garage, the bedroom, the basement, the backyard, the den, ad infinitum. Ye
always the same results, the dog under foot, tripping us, licking us, drooling
for God’s all over the floor and whatever else stood in the way of the tongue,
longer than garden snake.
Don’t get me wrong, I like my sister, her husband and even
her dog, as long as it stays penned, away from me and my Little Guy, a sturdy,
14 year old Tom, I’ve had since he was a puff of fluff.
Okay, fair play seems only right. If get to keep the cat, why can’t she have the
dog. It’s all about dimension. My cat at most weighs twenty pounds and he sleeps
approximately the same amount of hours a day, and he does not, I repeat, doesn't
slobber even when lapping water.
Now the other item I need to mention is this whole scenerio isn't about dogs nor
cats;
Jan Strever
@2005
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