Dog Troubles

Jim got out of bed, stretched, and looked out the window. “Damn it!” he yelled. He grabbed his housecoat and ran downstairs. Eliza, already up, was having breakfast when he stormed by the kitchen.

“What’s up, honey?” she asked. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

She always teased him in the morning (Jim was not a morning person in any respect), but, today, she was met with a terse, “Screw you.”

She stood up, her eggs and morning paper forgotten. “What’s wrong with you, sourpuss?”

“Despite $400 in obedience training, which I paid for, you’re damned dog is digging in my garden. Again!” He threw open the patio door, grabbed a slipper, and hurled it at her golden retriever, striking him in the back of the head. Rex, knowing he’d been caught, dropped his gloves and ran for his doghouse.

“But, sweetie,” Eliza implored, “he just wants to help! And his begonias look so lovely next to your lilies. Look! He even arranged them in a smiley face for you!”

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