I have been stuck watching my friend All-in Pete’s dog all weekend. The dog is a Ridgeback and his name is Ford. But for some reason I keep calling him Floyd. I don’t know why. The British Chef maybe? May he rest in peace.
The casualties this weekend has been:
1. My right shoe. Not longer recognizable. The left one looks sad and lonely.
2. A red coaster. Shred to bits.
3. A pop-up toy. A small rubber lizard pops up when you remove the lid of a wooden box. The box is gone. The lizard is okay for some reason. Okay, but presumably shaken from the attack.
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