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mother-fucker
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you know, it never fails. I can hug my dog before I leave for work and tell him he's a good dog, and I can give him a chewy and a bacon doggie treat and still when I come home he has devoured something and left the shredded remains of it on my floor.
He sits in the chair next to the front door and waits for me to come home, all hundred pounds of him, and he looks at me with those liquid brown sad puppy eyes as soon as I walk into the door, those eyes that say "I could'nt help destroying your house, it's not my fault you leave books on the table, they are perfectly destroyable."
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lucky
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07.28.2005 - 09:06
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