Headfirst
I didn’t want the apricot toy poodle, but Dad insisted. I thought
she would spend her days on a satin pillow, muzzle in the air, grooming
her well-manicured curls. But she was a real puppy, and lost no time
tugging the ribbon loose from her ear and clawing the baby blanket we’d
brought her home in. Still, it wasn’t until she almost fell into her
water dish because her head was too heavy that I saw why Dad picked her:
She’d teach me how not to fall in, no matter how deep the water, or how
long he’d been gone.
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