Recently Sydney has taken a brief hiatus from her endeavor towards becoming the world's smallest eating champion in order to learn how to scale furniture. See, up until now we had been using the furniture as a make-shift fence to trap her into a corner of our family room. In the last few days she has come to the realization that she is tall enough and strong enough to scale said furniture and escape into the wild that is the rest of our house. (I should have bought electrified furniture. So dumb.)
Her situation is not unlike that of a life-long felon who has recently been released from prison. Instead of immediately finding the nearest whore house, she makes a bee-line straight towards our trashcan. Instead of hitting up an old dealer or bookie, she compulsively sprints to the dog's food bowls. I am like her parole officer...jaded, disillusioned, and wishing I was drunk. I chase her around fruitlessly, trying to make her see the error of her ways, threatening her with re-incarceration, but she takes no heed. She merely laughs like a maniac (a maniac who is totally jacked-up on dog kibble). She's an outlaw alright. Didn't you know? The recidivism rate among 14-month old convicts is staggering. If you see one, RUN.
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