When my dog, Molly, now dead, but then alive, had puppies, she wouldn't let us go near them. Our docile, little Molly, the minute she had those puppies--right up until the day they were big enough to take care of themselves--turned into an evil, growling, trembling mess of motherly, well, doggedness. Even my dad, who fed Molly from the dinner table, got the teeth and growl.

The principal's office of one of the elementary schools in my hometown has a list of parents they call every morning. The office calls the parents to make sure they haven't slept in and failed to wake up their kids.

Molly drank the same water as these lazy-ass parents, so the water's not the reason.




Tom, October 14, 2005, 1:59 AM         (link here)