Friday, October 15, 2010

Bridget in the Dog House

Another difference between me and Bridget: I have a dog, and she can't keep herself clothed.

I think Bridget would very much like to have a dog, and she'd even enjoy playing with the dog when she got it.  On cold and lonely nights, they'd snuggle.  She'd talk to her dog as if it were a person - practice work-conversations with a big vocabulary so that she'd be respected, admired even.  In the future, she'd think how nicely a dog would complete the picture of her happy life: a country home with Perfect Husband and adorable children with ringlets.  They'd all trot off together to have a picnic in a meadow, pup nipping at their heels.

If she got a dog now, surely she'd be able to meet Perfect Husband at a park.  She'd have THE proper casual-Sunday-afternoon outfit on...she'd toss a frisbee for her golden labradoodle to fetch, only Perfect Husband would catch it first.  A cute little game of tug-of-war between the dog and PH follows, and they both bring the frisbee back to Bridge.  Mmm, good dog.

However, if she were to dog-sit for a weekend and take the dog to the park, she'd be tripping over herself with leashes and doggy-waste bags, look ridiculous in what she thought was the proper outfit, and wind up with fines from PH for letting her dog run off-leash.

Sandy-bear, looks like you're stuck with me.  (Bridge, maybe you should start with a plant.)

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