Saturday, October 25, 2014

My Boy, KC


My boy KC doesn't know he's a dog.  He thinks he's a human.  I've had him since he was two months old.  He's now a fourteen year-old, arthritic, greying, warty baby with a tumor, but he still loves to eat and play and sleep, of course.  Favorite pastimes include unrolling bathroom tissue, pulling kleenex out of the box in sheer and utter amazement, and emptying any wastebasket he can reach.
Once he emptied the contents of my friend's handbag onto the floor, lined up all the contents, and ate her gum and Burt's Bee's lip gloss.
But even though he is a senior dog, he's still thrilled to see me every morning (when I roll him out of bed) and when I come home. Happy dance and tail wags meet me at the door.

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