I’m considering stabbing my eyes out with a rusty butter knife. It’s the only way I’ll be spared one more viewing of Cal’s page-a-day 365 Dogs calendar. It’s been a daily event in our home for the last week. Best part? I bought the calendar for her. I did this to myself.
Cal has been asking for a calendar since December.
Cal: Can I get a calendar?
Me: No ma’am, we don’t buy calendars before they go on sale for a $1.
Cal: Don’t you want me to know the correct date to write on homework?
Me: For an average savings of $11.99 per calendar, I’d rather you be confused for the first 45 days of each year. You still have 320 other days to get it right. Think!
I stopped by the bookstore last week to buy her a calendar. I picked the page-a-day 365 Dogs because the box was just so convincing.
“America’s Bestselling Dog Calendar. 4.8 Million Copies Sold”
Yes, I’ll take me one of them, please. I’m easily influenced. I consider it one of my better qualities.
Each morning, after she gets dressed, she tears off a new page. I know she’s torn off a page because I either hear a.) squealing, b.) “awwwww,” c.) “cuuuuuuuuute,” or d.) “that’s SO funny” from across the hall.
Then, she comes over to show us. She always asks us the same question, “What do you think the dog is thinking?”
Um. I don’t what. What does a terrier think about as he’s standing on a rocky precipice with a blue bandanna around his neck? His last talk with his therapist about switching antidepressants?
What does a bulldog think when he’s dressed up as a bride at the altar? A prenup?
What about a pug with a sombrero? What’s he thinking about? A margarita?
I did this to myself.
image via JessicaHische.com
