The only one in our little family more excited than me to see the latest edition of O Magazine land in our mailbox was THAT DOG. While I was ogling the adorable puppies on the cover and looking forward to wonderful tales of love and joy penned by fellow canine fanatics, THAT DOG was calculating how this nice thick issue would give her just enough height, when piled upon our several back issues of Mens' Journal, to reach the depths of the bathroom wastebasket and pull out all the used tissue goodness lurking therein.
But having a size advantage on the pup (not to mention opposible thumbs) I got the magazine first. I flipped it open, while THAT DOG stared at me impatiently. You can imagine my dismay when the first thing I read was a heartbreaking, dismal essay by a woman who moved to my same new city, with a dog approximately THAT DOG's age...immediately after which said dog died.
It was horrid. Awful. And yes, I know all about the seasons of life and that sooner or later, all pets go off to meet at that great country farm in the sky...but I don't really want to read about it happening here, to a dog like mine.
So if anyone has a birdcage that needs fresh pages to line it, I have a magazine ready to go. (I'll make it up to THAT DOG by leaving the wastebasket out where she can reach it on her own, with an extra tissue or two thrown in for good measure...)