The mother of a friend of mine had a disgusting weiner dog named Priscilla. I say the dog was disgusting because it was grossly fat, and its belly dragged on the ground, and, like most weiner dogs, it was not really housebroken. The mother was an old widow woman, who thought she was being kind to the dog by overfeeding it things that dogs shouldn't eat, like ice cream.
One day the power was off, I think there was a storm, and the mother gave Priscilla a carton of ice cream because it was going to melt, anyway. Priscilla ate the whole carton of ice cream, and then croaked. She was lying on her back with her feet in the air.
My friend remarked to his mother that "The dog's dead." His mother said, "No, she's just sleeping." He knew better than to argue with her, so he just went about his business. The mother put Priscilla on a cushion on the dining room table and waited two days for her to wake up before she finally admitted defeat. |
