Friday, May 13, 2005

Friday the 13th

My dog likes to eat plastic clothing hangers. I don't know where he finds them; it's as if he has some radar for the hangers that randomly fall behind the bed or get knocked down in the closet.

His head is little, about baseball size, and it fits in the center of the hanger, but, for some reason, my dog has a hard time getting his head back out of the hanger. I keep turning around this morning to find him decked out with a hanger necklace and running around like a crack addict, shaking his head wildly to free himself from his plastic noose. Since I get a little paranoid on Friday the 13th, I am positive he is somehow going to hang himself, sending me into my final depressive espisode.

I've removed 3 hangers so far, and I've looked everywhere to make sure there aren't any more lying around.

Guess what he's just run by with? Apparently, he's moved on to plastic bags.

I can't wait until this day is over.


At 11:31 AM, Blogger Psycho Kitty said...

Oh my. I am not laughing. Really. I am NOT laughing.
Okay, I'm laughing. But only because I don't think he'll really hurt himself...


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