Woof Humor

The Seventy-Eighth Home Coming

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It ain’t so bad being back here. I’ve already settled in, even though we reached here fifteen minutes ago. Mom, the superwoman, has already unpacked all the luggage, and everyone is acting like we never even went on vacation. Like we never picked strawberries or got our tan on or ate ice-cream on a daily basis.  Everyone’s cool, everything’s back to the way it used to be.

I met the gardener. Tried to inform him about my Mum’s chicken pox medicine, but gave up when he sat down and started meditating something that sounded like, ‘Get this mad dog away from me, my Lord, or I will be forced to cut its tonsils out.’ I’m sure he didn’t really mean it. Different people have different ways to show their love. I’m sure the gardener expresses affection by chopping off body parts. No biggie.

Although I’m TRYING to act cool on the outside, on the in, I’m TOTALLY cooler. This dog [that’s me] couldn’t be happier. This >sob< dog is right where she >sob< belongs. This… My… um, allergies are acting up. I think I should go lie down. Don’t worry, it isn’t like I’m crying because I SO desperately want to go back… It’s just that I start shedding tears whenever in close proximity to… um, gardeners. Yup, they are COMPLETE allergy-prone guys. Beware of the gardener!! >Laughs Feebly<

 

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