Archive for March, 2009
You sprained your ankle. Your leg was hurting so bad that you would not even take a step to devour your favourite biscuit – even though it was right in front of you and the niagra was spilling out of your mouth in the form of drool. And you just lay in your bed, listless. So unlike you who is zipping thr0ugh the house and usually crashing into something.
And yet, when K came home, you followed him around faithfully, like you always do. With a limp and without a whimper. Finally K had to come sit next to your bed so that you can get some rest.
You stupid dog, today you made me cry.