Mostly True Memoirs

My Poor Little Dog

My poor little dog.

She’s a Southern California gal.

She’s not used to these cold and wet North Texas mornings.

When she comes back into the house, she is always soaking wet.

I make her lie down on the doormat while I dry off her soggy paws.

She really hates this.

It’s torture, apparently.

Today she tried to run off and escape the dreaded towel.

However, because she was wet, she slipped on the tile and plowed into the wall.

Yeah, I laughed.

That’s what she gets for trying to shirk her responsibilities.

Poor little doggie.

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