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She runs a tight ship.

May 19, 2010

Molly is our dog.

She turned 5 today.  Do you know how old that is in human years?  She is 35 years old in human years today.  That means she is older than both Chad and me…and that means she gets to make all the family decisions from now on.

Life would be pretty interesting if Molly got to make all the decisions.

Chad and I would never go to work, because she gets way depressed when we have to leave in the morning.  Currently, with Chad and I both being employed outside of the home, Molly curbs her depression by taking naps, chewing holes in the crotch of all my underwear, and licking the couch.  I’m guessing her first big decision will be for us to put in our two-weeks notice.

Molly eats her dog food with no complaint, but I’m sure she would prefer that we more often forget those frozen steaks that are thawing for dinner on the kitchen counter.  Those taste a lot better.  Cold.Wet.Raw.Meat.Nom.  Sometimes when we are eating dinner, she creeps up on our plates and licks the air around our food.  She’s totally going to make us set a third plate at the table for her.

She just requested MORE TENNIS BALLS!  MORE NYLABONES (those REALLY fucking hurt when you step on them in the middle of the night)! MORE STUFFED ANIMALS WITH SQUEAKERS TO DESTROY IN 5 MINUTES FLAT!  MORE TREATS!  Definitely more treats.

No one will be allowed to come to our front door…or walk on the sidewalk in front of our house.  This behavior is just unacceptable to our precious Molly, and if you attempt it, her display of vicious barking will for sure make you think that she could eat your flesh with absolutely no remorse.  If someone does happen to get through the front door, they must surrender their legs to major sniffs and their faces to slobbery kisses.  She has an intimidating exterior, but her insides are made entirely of cotton candy and sunshine.

It’s a good thing we really love Molly.  Otherwise, this new family dynamic would never work.

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