You wouldn’t believe that the dog in the featured image is a cunning assassin. But she is. A playful ball of white fluff who thoroughly enjoys chasing a squeaky toy by herself, and snuggling up on your bed or lap at any given point is not the type of canine one would associate with being hostile. The thing is though, she doesn’t appreciate children getting all up in her personal space. And I get that. You’re used to hanging around adult humans, those who lavishly praise and love you constantly (unless you’ve left a present in their bedroom in a desperate attempt at some extra attention.) And then a smaller sized human comes along and tries to either pet you by pulling your hair too hard, or play with you by stealing your toys. Does this miniature adult not realise you much prefer backing up and pouncing on the elephant with no one else involved? So you lose your shit and bite him on the face. As he stumbles toward his mother, crying and gasping, the words “the dog ate my face” are dribbling out of his mouth. We gather our belongings as if there’s a tsunami approaching and very quickly vacate the area so as not to have you euthanised. Please stop attacking children, Coco.
This blog is a compilation of some of my thoughts and dreams that have marinated for long enough that I can form sentences with them.
I am the mother of one toddler and one pregnant belly, the wife to one man, a friend to many, a sister to two and a daughter. Recently returned from eight months in Europe, having fulfilled a long anticipated dream of living in France.