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Thursday, October 27, 2011

The Dog is in the House

It's now been over a year since a scruffy, stinky terrier, living a vagrant life, cautiously accompanied us home one day. 

How does a dog, who’s not supposed to be in the house, come to have a luxury bed, smack dab in the living room?  How does a dog–who still smells like a bad fart–get away with putting his dirty paws on the breakfast table? (As we all giggle and dote on his cleverness.) And why in the world would we put up with a dog who barks throughout Glee when that unforgivable train passes through. Because Percy's indomitable spirit is as contagious as a cold.
What kind of animal can weave themselves into a family’s life so delicately and yet so forcefully at the same time? Certainly not a fish! No, not a cow. Ooh, a lizard you say? I do waver on cats. If they could only smile.  Methinks, without a doubt, a dog. Our entire family can be sad. We can be spitting mad. But it takes one small act from our pet. Like a lick in the face from his big wet tongue. And we are all saved from rage or gloom. (No, we don't like to consider where that tongue has been.)

Percy. He's still the smelliest of them all. But there's no dog that can dance like the Perce. Oh Pup. What would we do without you? Probably vacuum less. But life wouldn't be near as fun.

Percy, sitting on his butt and dancing.

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