[Sidenote: Oh right, the blog and that whole Jack Rory storyline that was going on…yeah. Here’s what happened to him: He moved to a new house in mid-December and couldn’t deal with himself.
Nobody wants to hear about that. So he had to go on hiatus. But the thrilling conclusion to his exploits prior to his alleged return to the North Pole WILL one day be revealed. Maybe. In the meantime: SAD DOGS.]
My parents are traveling for the next month, and they left their dogs, Sally and Nelly, with us. In response to what they clearly view as their abandonment, Sally and Nelly are now cycling through the five stages of grief.
Nelly (the bigger one): “Don’t worry, Sally, they’re totally coming back…they’re probably just backing the car out.”
Sally: “….????…..How could this happen to meeeee?! How could they leave meeeee? Nelly, this is YOUR fault.”
Nelly: “WTF. They’ve seriously been gone for a while now.”
Sally: “Goddamn it, Nelly. Your fault. This is all YOUR fault.”
Both: “Please take us to our mummy. We beg you. Please.”
Nelly: “I don’t know if I can go on living.”
Sally: “I hope you don’t. This is all YOUR fault.”
Nelly: “You know, it’s really not so bad here.”
Sally: “My hunger strike starts now.”