FrankenPuppy

A quick note to you late on a Sunday.  I’ve been campaigning for a puppy.  Well, to be honest a girl puppy I can name Daisy, a pygmy goat I can name Nibbles, a teacup piglet(they’re real!), and a hedgehog named Winnie.  Actually, Ava and I have a whole life planned for our hedgehog sisters, Winnie and Lulu.  They’re going to marry brothers and live in a cute little English village.

But I digress.  I only sort of want a puppy.  I want a puppy in the way I want all cute and fuzzy things.  I don’t however, want another dog that could bring anymore chaos to the Bright Compound.  Believe me, it’s already hysterical enough over here.  But, on the other hand, I do think in all seriousness that if Roscoe had a canine friend to expend some of his energy on, he wouldn’t use the cat and the children as chew toys as much as he does. 

I have a few requirements for this other puppy (namely that it not really exist except maybe, I don’t know, I’m insane). I want it to be too short to climb on the kitchen table for one thing.  I’d like it to have a normal bark that it doesn’t feel compelled to use constantly.  I would also like it to be in the shape of an English bulldog.

I’ve been pleading/teasing My Honey halfheartedly for Daisy for years now.  I do it mostly because it makes him crazy.  I know I keep him just enough off balance that he thinks I might do something crazy like appear one day with another dog.  It’s a hobby of mine – and to be perfectly frank, he’s not that far off the beam.  I am crazy and impulsive.  It’s a fact.  However, as much as I tease, I’m also not keen on the idea of a divorce, so I try to restrain myself. 

This evening I had an epiphany.  I was looking down at a sleeping Rosco.

“Hey,” I said, “I think we could cobble together another dog just out of the extra Roscoe skin.”  To prove my point I easily pulled four inches of skin loose just from his face.

“But he wouldn’t be as cute,” My Honey replied.

He has a point, and really that’s the only thing Rosco has going for him.