Hey, it's Jo, anyway, saw the photo submissions and just HAD to give some on Meatball.

In case people still wonder (I know I do) why my mother decided to name her after an important food group....

You know she did something wrong when her paw (not to mention her whole body) is covering the telephone wire which she successfully bit in half. (and stopped my sister's internet connection for a week, thus stopping her whole train of lifeline because she, like me, lives on the internet.)

"Hmm... maybe if I act all cute, adorable and depressed (which is so conveniently accentuated by my weird sideways triangle eyes and bushy eyebrows) I can get away with the twenty something pairs of shoes that I, knowing it was wrong, tried to hide that fact and still got caught, destroyed." (One of which big sis wanted to wear to a sweet sixteen....)

"And if that doesn't work, maybe if I hide under a coat, no one, even though its not really hard to miss a giant furbutt who takes up too much space hiding on the chair which big sis spends most of her life rotting in front of the computer and will inevitably have to return sooner or later, will notice me."

She spends every waking moment looking for food or stealing shoes and toys (which contain precious childhood memories that are no longer precious when drenched in dog spit) and every other moment asleep. It's astounding that a living breathing animal can sleep, in a literal sense, like a log. A log that you CAN and I say this with full conviction, roll around your living room floor and still not wake up.

But all in all, Meatball is a very *ahem* ferocious and protective watchdog.
Besides, we wouldn't really need to guard our house against any robbers or thieves because by the time we get home, the guy will be on the floor, dead. The post mortem will identify the cause of death as laughter. DUN DUN DUN The amazing winking, possessed, and half-asleep-when-this-picture-was-taken, wonderdog!

Aside from protecting us from big black garbage bags, the monster who lives inside the vaccuum, and the hammock which, after once having sat in it with my mother, decided it was dangerous therefore forcefully tried to pull said mother out of the the colorful hammock, she is a wonderful companion. Ta-da! Our Meatball

love, Josie

You, too can write me a ridiculous story about your dog (make sure to tell the truth, now) and I might post it on this site so you can show all your friends how uber-cool you think you are. Send a photo along with it. No blurriness unless it's artistically aesthetic.

m@dropthatsock.com

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