Jennifer
My childhood and my dog share a grave in my backyard.
My childhood and my dog share a grave in my backyard.
I didn't tell her the candy she popped in her mouth had just been half-eaten by the dog.
As I skidded on a trail of pee on the hardwood floor, I realized I couldn't be with the one I love because I hate his dog.
Yesterday he pooped cotton and today he threw up eye balls.
I was so nervous my dog would eat my resume that I printed out five of them and hid them in various places around the house, only to come home to my dress shoes in pieces sprawled across the floor.
I told my boss that when my dog died I would need a week of for a death in the family.
I nearly fell off my bike laughing after seeing the standard poodle sniffing around on the housetop without a care in the world, particularly to that of gravity.
I am so glad I got that chance to just hold him and talk to him and breathe in his little doggie smell.
My dog just bit my mean neighbor, but while I apologized profusely to him I was secretly deciding on what kind of treat to give her when we got back home.
As I chased my dog down the street, I cursed the idiot who opened the gate to leave the yard and failed to latch it back.
It's sad that my mother's cancer-filled dog seemed more frisky and alert on the day before he was put to sleep than he had been in years.
Later, I would realize that I cried harder when my dog died than I did at Mom's funeral.
I told him he wasn't allowed to die until I was ready to say goodbye, but he didn't listen.
My dog has eaten a bag of Hershey Kisses, an entire Vonnegut novel and a tube of super glue without ill effect, but a bowl of the wrong brand of dog food required a roll of paper towels and a bottle of disinfectant to remedy.
One of the worst feelings comes along with seeing your dog dying in the middle of the road after you accidently ran over her.
As my dog of 15 years lay lifeless in my arms, I was screaming her name so loud that I swear she could hear me in death, because she woke up and wagged her tail.
On Sunday morning when I woke up I didn't have a dog, but by Sunday afternoon I was chasing ducks in the park with Zeus.
I can run about as fast as my dog when I'm barefoot and his leash is attached to a fifteen-pound plastic chair.