She’s like a coiled spring.

On this same subject, my mom called yesterday, almost in tears. She’d heard from my dad that we’d taken in a stray Pit Bull off the streets of Detroit and she was beside herself with worry. She asked if we’d gone to sleep yet with the dog in the house, like she was imagining that it would gut us in our sleep and lap up our blood. I told her that we weren’t afraid to die. I don’t think she thought that was too funny. I put Linette on the phone with her.

I do thing there’s merit to her argument though. We don’t really know this dog that well yet. Every day, there’s another surprise. First the flees. Then the worms. Then what?