#469 Seeing a dog that looks like a dog you know

My sister and I killed Dale.

Well, to be honest, the poor goldfish didn't stand a chance. Nina was six and I was seven when my parents let us have our first pet and the slippery slugger swam in our front hallway for ten happy days before being savagely murdered by overfeeding.

See, we wanted to show Dale our love so much we cleaned his bowl regularly, taped ocean drawings to the back of his home, and fed him every time our TV show went to commercial break.

He wasn't a suicidal glutton when we...