The responses that I receive vary. There’s the “I’d be happy to go home with you, let’s go!” whole-body wag, the resolute “I shall ignore you, and avoid all eye contact, for I am waiting for my owner,” and the maniacal bark.
My husband and I are allowed to share a home with a type-A cat who would never permit his territory to be invaded by another being outside of our existing pride. Except for the occasional mouse, which, annoyingly enough, doesn’t faze him a bit. So for now, we are dogless.
On one of our day-sucking Target-Petco-CVS-Staples-Michael’s-Mobil-Shaw’s-iParty-Bank outings, we passed a new doggie-daycare (a topic for another entry). We decided to go in and check out the facility (i.e., see the dogs) under the auspices of comparison-shopping for a suitable daycare for our beloved Rover.
At the time that we entered, a mother and her son (3 or 4-ish) was entering the building as well. We all went up to the suites/pens/stalls/cells/whatever and peered in at the dogs. One of the suites contained a group of puppies that were lying down and sleeping in that deep sleep reserved for infants of all species.
The little boy surveyed the puppy pile for a moment, and then said in a voice that conveyed part distress, and part utter disgust toward his mother for bringing him to view such a tragedy,
“They’re all DEAD!”
Well, you just never know what your Mom is going to pull on you, do you? One day it’s all ice-cream and playgrounds, and the next it’s viewing a pile of dead puppies. A trip to Grandma’s one day, a stab in the arm the next. Life is full of surprises.
Of course, the mother explained that the puppies were just sleeping (in a rather defensive sounding tone), but I don’t know if her son bought it. Perhaps his mother had uttered one too many white lies.
For example, I have heard:
“I am just ‘testing’ the camcorder.”
“Those gumball machines are broken.”
“It’s a place that sells playground equipment.” (McDonald’s with playscape)
Mmm-hmm. Riiiiiiiiiight.
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