Dog of Little Brain
We came home the other day to this: That's right. A ripped, once-very-comfortable pillow on which I would often lay my weary head. Mr. Handsome's mother bought us these pillows for Christmas, to go with our leather couches, for which we are still paying through the nose. She does not yet know that her nice pillows that she spent lots of money for and took many hours to choose now look like this. I blame the kids for this mishap, although Gryphon actually gnawed on them with his large maw all by himself. But the children, however lovely they often are, sometimes pound him with the pillows, as sort of a playfight ritual of sorts, and that's why I blame them. So, the other day, we were out, doing something relatively familyish of one type or another (read this to mean, we were forced to be together and we were not enjoying it one little bit), and when we came home, Gryphon came romping up to us, as he always does, smiling and wagging his nub of a tail. I think he even barked...