Quote:
Originally Posted by tracilicious
* a dog from my dad (ok, that was really cool) when I was eight.
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Okay, I have a hideous story to tell. You know, since we're kinda dredging up the family angst.
When I was 6, my dad called me from work and told me that he bought me a dog for my birthday. I was thrilled. I started making a bed for him and getting bowls together for his food and water... My dad shows up with a ceramic bloodhound statue. It was to be used as a doorstop.
I was devistated. He thought it was funny. I did not.