Tuesday, September 25, 2007

My Dog (in list form)


My dog's name is Kiddo, that is unless we're calling her one of 18,000 terms of endearment. These include, but are not limited to:
little face,
muffin-face,
happy face (there are many variations on the "face" theme)
ska-doodle,
scrumptious,
lovey,
kiddo the kid,
kiddo skadiddo,
circus girl,
baby girl
god dammit
and "the tank"


Kiddo's treasures. A list of items the dog has brought in from the yard:
A partially eaten corn on the cob (not ours),
peanut shells,
a pack of cigarettes,
a paint scraper (that does not belong to us),
tubing,
weed lining (both the sheet and the edging variety),
all manner of rocks and gravel,
something resembling a petrified bird foot,
and last but not least, cat poo.

Kiddo's wake of destruction. To date, the dog has destroyed:
Three dog beds,
four couch pillows,
two couch cushions,
one kitchen rug,
the living room rug,
every toy we have ever bought her (except the indestructible Kong),
a pair of my jeans,
my favorite t-shirt,
6 pairs of shoes (including two pairs of my sister's flip flops---sorry Alex),
two towels,
one used maxi-pad (publicly)
and our ability to answer the door to our own house (it now takes both of us, one to open the door and the other to hold the leash).

Occasions we've regretted getting the dog:
None. (She's that cute)

After a long day of dragging strange things into the house, bothering the cat, destroying our property and scaring our guests, she curls up in our laps, tucks her head under our elbows and falls asleep. And we forget all about being mad at her until the next day.

1 comment:

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