Oh, Flash…

Flash vs. Physics:

Physics: A dog resembling a loaf of bread with 4 inch legs should not be able to scale a 3-foot counter.
Flash: Managed to retrieve a 2 quart Tupperware container of trail mix from said counter.

Physics: Opposable thumbs are required to open Tupperware.
Flash: Managed to pry open said container and retrieve the contents.

Physics: 2 quarts of trail mix should not fit in a Corgi’s stomach.
Flash: *burp*

Physics: 2 quarts of trail mix should not create more than 2 quarts of poop.
Flash: Ate the trail mix 3 days ago. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

Physics: A 40 pound dog who poops more than 40 pounds should disappear.
Flash: Still here, bigger than life.

Flash 5, Physics 0.

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Mini Me

Dear Flash,

Mysteries abound.

At first I thought somehow the little procedure you had to remove you from the gene pool had failed. My brain fused as it tried to cope with the possibility of twice the amount of cat poop being strewn throughout the house, twice the number of nose-to-butt violations daily, and twice the amount of def-con one volume barking to alert us to the invasion of the squirrels. Then I realized the small one was waaaaaaay too well-behaved to be real. Crisis averted.

I gave it away just to be safe.

Love, Nina

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There’s a Beer in My Rear

Dear Flash,

Oh, I know, I haven’t been writing as much lately, so much so that I had convinced myself you were a normal dog. I was so fixed in this delusion, in fact, that I actually thought it was a good idea to ask a friend to dog-sit while Jay and I were away this weekend. I didn’t bat an eye when she offered to take you to her house, rather than come to feed you here. I admit to having a gnawing in my gut when I got off the plane in Seattle and had a text about you rolling down the car windows on the way to her house, but it was too late to change my mind at that point.

I am strangely curious as to how this happened, and at the same time repulsed by the fact that it did happen while you were at someone else’s house. I can only imagine the private little party going on in your head when you hopped up on Amy’s table, chugged a Coors Light and took a drag on the cigarette. I wonder if you were aware she would be in contact with me, and there would be photographic evidence of the event. Then again, I wonder if it would occur to you to care that this behavior was considered socially unacceptable.

You are a piece of work.

Love, Nina

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