Because my parents are crazy dog people I was not surprised when I got a new baby brother a couple of weeks ago. They had coveted this puppy when it went home with his new owners and raised their hands eagerly when that couple decided to bail on their new treasure.
They are now the proud owners of a large ass Labrador (130 pounds), a medium sized mutt of undesirable origin (80 pounds) and a tee tiny smooth dachshund yippier than you can fathom (13 pounds).
That means my mother is dealing with 223 pounds of flailing animal flesh all alone this weekend while my father is off visiting my grandparents.
Which means I should shut up about how my two kept getting me up last night because Are you sure that Daddy is just not down in the cellar DEAD, can we go check ONE MORE TIME? every hour on the hour until I gave up and just went to fucking work already.
Of course my mom has thirteen pounds of this at home (one could argue that Darla is almost exactly that but she needs a haircut in the worst way and is not at her most attractive or best smelling).
As a side note, his name is Leon but my parents have taken to calling him LITTLE BIT. Does that explain everything you ever needed to know about me? I thought so.
2 comments:
LEON! He's so cute.
Nice to know there are other crazy dog people around. It gives me comfort.
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