She blew her nose noisily, then tried to take a deep breath. Nope, not yet. She grabbed another tissue. The cold still hadn’t run its course, and her hampadoodle, full of snotty, gross, used up tissues showed for it. Usually full of crumpled up sketches and notebook paper, her hampadoodle had instead become a trash can when her cold really hit.

The hampadoodle itself was completely fine with this use. It was getting rather tired of the girl’s bad drawings and poetry. In fact, the hampadoodle was getting to the point where it despised its original use. Why couldn’t it just be a regular trash can, like all the other trash cans in the house? Why couldn’t it hold old receipts, moldy cheese, and veggies? At least THAT stuff was interesting!

Unfortunately, the hampadoodle could not tell the girl any of this, because it was simply a glorified recycle bin and could not talk.