The Divine Ms. M., our oldest, sent me the photo shown below. It depicts her dog, or at least a dog that looks exactly like her mutt. I call the Divine Ms. M’s beast “Lizzard” because of its reptilian brain. That damn thing is the psycho dog from hell.
Last time we visited, Joan innocently walked by the dog and, with absolutely no warning whatever, it took a big chunk of flesh from Joan’s thigh. Keep in mind that dogs love Joan and she them. What prompted the Pearl Harbor like attack on Joan remains a complete mystery save for whatever horror movies dance through Lizzard’s cranium in real-time.
Anyway, I get stuff like this from the Divine Ms. M. frequently, and particularly when my posts starting getting maudlin. She is apparently cut from similar cloth as her aging father. I never realized it until today, but one’s sense of humor has a genetic component.