Look Mom! I left my favorite ball on your pillow to remind you that it’s time to go out and play!
!!
!!
??
An Exploration into Trixie's Crazy
- Trixie: Hi! I'm in the front yard enjoying the sunshine on a sunny day.
- Me: Oh, I better put this letter in the mailbox
- (opens front door)
- Trixie: YOU'RE OPENING THE FRONT DOOR! I NEED TO COME IN THROUGH THE SIDE DOOR SO I CAN RUN OUT THE FRONT DOOR!
Look Mom! I’ve gathered all my toys (and a couple of leaves) for you to play with me!
Hurry up and take the photo already!
You may be calling me a drama queen under your breath right now, but you just don’t understand.
Ball (a play in one act)
- Me: Trixie, let's go outside. I have your ball.
- Trixie: Do you have my ball?
- Me: Yes, it's here in my hand.
- Trixie: [stops before the kitchen door, looks back at me] Are you sure you have my ball?
- Me: Here it is.
- Trixie: [stops in breezeway, looks back at me] Are you sure you have that ball?
- Me: C'mon, let's go.
- Trixie: [waiting at front door, looks back at me] Why is this door locked? Did you forget my ball?
- Me: It's still in my hand. Calm down.
- Trixie: [catches ball mid-air; prances around yard with it in her mouth for 5 minutes] Hey, Mom! I found my ball in the front yard!
Chillin’ wit mah homies in da kitchen.
They call me “odalisque of the stairs.”
Even though it’s beautiful out I like to rest my face on the sofa in the sun.
Where is my ball?
I could get used to this whole “inflatable mattress on the floor” thing.
I’m in a rare class of canine known as “50 pounds and up lap dog.” Look it up on the AKC website.
I just sleep-farted. I have no shame.
Dog coats are for sissies, Mom.
- Don’t you want to throw my disgusting, dirty toy?
- Please?
- You have to play with me.
- I love you.
- OK. I’ll just leave this here in your leg.
Page 1 of 5
