There is another woman.
Her hair is everywhere.
When I visit Jac in his office, she meets me at the door.
And more than once I have found her in the bed, ON MY SIDE.
You think I’d be more concerned, what with the recent wedding ring disappearance and all, but I’m not.
(This is where Jac thought I should use the “‘b’ word.” After all, he reasoned, the Good Deacon Nathan called her that himself when he visited and Nathan is all propriety. I will not, however, besmirch my blogs family friendly rating. Except that I’ve alluded to the ‘b’ word and that’s probably done the trick anyhow . . . Dang.)
I’ve given up fighting altogether, actually. Okay, that’s not entirely true because I still resent her when she gets loose, eats off the counter or poops on my floors. The rest of the time though, it’s all good.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being a weirdy by attaching the title “woman” to the dog. It’s just that she seems so intent on trying to insert herself into my spot. For example, ANYTIME Jac and I show any sort of pda, she is right there, paws on our hips, nosing between us as if to say, “Oh, is this what we’re doing now?” And th bed thing, well, she NEVER is to be found on Jac’s side and she seems to take great pleasure in sitting on my pillow. That’s right, her butt where my head rests.
I AM over it. No, really. Besides, it is ME in the bed and on the pillow right now while she sleeps outside the door.
Who’s the other woman, now?