Lola is such a drama queen. Last night I started packing up Christmas, not because I necessarily wanted to, but because I knew if it stayed out much longer I would be trying to dust tiny baby Jesus and would most likely break the little guy. And since he tried to murder Lola earlier this month, I figured I’d be having to explain this episode of retaliation to the big man upstairs one day.
I don’t need that kind of heat in my life. <– Pun intended, you know, ’cause this is a comedy blog and all.
So there I am packing up Christmas and Lola is lying in front of my feet every time I turn around. She’s blocking the Christmas bins and tripping me when I try to step over her. I finally ended up gut checking her on accident during a particularly clumsy move (both of us are ill-equipped to stay upright) and Lola starting crying like a baby.
She was on the couch, whimpering and whining like I broke her damn ribs. I walk over and she starts to really get going. She’s crying and batting me with a paw and doing my favorite sad puppy eyes. I think I saw a tear roll down her cheek.
It was pathetic.
So I said the magic word, cheese, and she was instantly better.
Now I know how my mother feels.
Check out my Facebook page @ShankYouVeryMuch
I also tweet like a bird on Twitter @HeatherKeet
You can also find me on Instagram @shankyouheather
Lola and I opened a store so we can hopefully cover the world in her Bulldog face, check it out at Shank You Very Much