“How’s the love of my life?” “Currently occupied with her prescheduled junk licking.” “Important business.” “Hang on, I think she wants to talk to you.” Pipsqueak, the husky-pug mix who was once up on Facebook Marketplace because of “a bad temperament” (falsehoods, slander) and “an unbreakable scooting habit” (yet to be broken), howls her love for me and tries to lick my face over Barb’s phone. I baby-talk at her for fifteen minutes, then leave for practice.
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