My sweet little Purbee dog was out to give me coronary today. At 5:45 this morning I was awakened to my father downstairs saying, "Where the hell is the dog?" Meaning he put the dog out and the dog escaped the yard.
ARGH!
Imagine if you will, me in my pink floral jammies. Running around the 2 block area screaming for "Purbee, the nice little dog."
See, he is a nice little dog.
We ran back and forth screaming for about 10 minutes. No Purbee. I woke my poor mother, to tell her that her dog had disappeared. I woke the nephew to get his help in finding the missing dog.
My dad was about to get in the car when my mother thought she heard the dog. So I told Raymond to look up the hill and I'd go down the hill.
When I started down through my grandmother's yard, lo and behold, on the next block was Purbee sniffing about someone's yard. I called for him. Did he come? Fuck no! (pardon my choice of words)
So I ran down the hill, which for those of you not familar with the area of Charleroi on Mon, is quite a nice one. I slid down the grade by her steps, on my ass! Yeah! Nice picture I'm painting, right? I jumped off the wall and tore across the street calling for Purbee.
I almost had to tackle the damn dog! He refused to come. I scooped him up and carried the blasted (sweet) animal back up the hill. I was amazed I wasn't ready to drop when I got him back in our yard.
Great way to start the day, isn't it?
The circle of scroll
13 hours ago
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