Thursday, July 01, 2004

Sik, sic, sick

When I was about 12 years old my parents said I could have a puppy. Despite weeks of agonising I couldn't decide what to call him.

Then on his first night in my loving care he was sick. Violently. I named him Vomit.

Strangely, my mother would never call him when we took him for a walk.

1 comment:

Harry said...

I had a dog, too. She was called Lucy. She got my house and half my pension.