“The words?” I ask, feeling like he’s speaking another language. The vet has the good grace to look at the counter as he says, “The front had the words bad girl written on it.” Somehow he manages to say all this with a straight face. Which tells me that many dogs eat many weird things and that an important skill for a vet is being able to not laugh when he learns what type of underwear you wear. And I’m not laughing either. Because my dog did not eat my pair. My jaw hangs open. My heart doesn’t want to compute what he just said. But my brain has already processed this awful news. And my
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