I love my job. A lot. It is full of days like this. Beautiful fall days, crisp air, dog dozing in the sunny spot that I have just moved her bed to so she can relax after a grueling week at the kennel in our absence...Until the silence is broken by the blood curdling screams of my mother-in-law's latest holiday-themed gifts to my children. There they are, only two feet away from the dog, laying on a stool. You can stomp past them, drop something large right next to them, accidentally kick the stool. Nothing. That poor spotted puppy stretches in her sleep or dares to roll over and, honey, let the Fun House begin!
Am I the only one who looks at a pile of shredded paper pulled from the lint filter in the dryer and thinks, "Hope that wasn't important"?
