There was a little girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad she was horrid.
That’s how I feel about Delilah, like there is no in-between, she is either good or she is bad.
There is no gray, she is either black or she is white. (Stop it, I know she’s chocolate.)
I mean figuratively speaking of course.
Tonight for instance, I didn’t get the opportunity to come home at lunch and take them for a quick walk, so it would have to be a quick around the block after dinner.
I started dinner, but knowing Delilah’s penchant for sticking her face into a pot of pasta water, I covered it and went into the living room, and still the distinct sound of slurping resonated from the kitchen.
Yes, she decided she would drink the dirty dish water from the kitchen sink.
Then after dinner I dropped the container of pumpkin and it spilled all over the bottom of the refrigerator. Since it’s being used for the dogs, I scooped up the bulk of it and plopped it back in the container. Delilah came over to see what had fallen.
“Out” I stated firmly and pointed with my left hand.
She tried to lick the pumpkin off.
Flash forward to our walk when she practically ripped my arm out of its socket trying to get to the dog on the other side of the road and just a few minutes ago she practically tore poor little Bob up just for coming up on the bed.
And then five minutes later, there she is sleepily resting her head upon my knee while I write my blog.
When she is good, she is very, very good and when she is bad….well she is horrid.
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