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like escaping from lava wearing swim fins, dragging an unwilling puppy behind you

November 18, 2010

Okay.  This blog is in the sidebar, but I know for a fact none of you click on those things (see, I’ve got spying-on-you-stats), so I’m going to tell you here that you need to visit it.  Go to Hyperbole and a Half right now and read about moving with dogs.

I have not laughed so hard in months.  Seriously, I was in tears at my desk last night, cackling like a madwoman.  This is so Pecan, every bit of it.  She’s like a horrific combination of both dogs described.  And the first time she wore booties (because her feet freeze to the sidewalk in the darkest depths of winter here), she looked just like this cartoon from the post:

Your legs still work, dog. I promise.

This post also fills me with terror, because there’s a solid chance I’ll be moving several states away in the not-too-distant future.  I know firsthand that moving with dogs is one of the least fun things in the world, and I’m not at all excited to be doing it again.

Stock up on benadryl (for drugging the puppy, seriously, it’s vet-approved), is my only advice.

 

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One comment

  1. Clearly the lesson of the post was “Get lots of squeaky toys!”

    How could you miss this?



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