My Dog Is A Hussy

**side note: In case I haven’t mentioned before, I live next door an adult group home.  They are great, mentally disabled folks (not drug addicted recovering alcoholics).  I call it The Home.**

 

I was laying on the couch yesterday afternoon when I heard this funky alarm.

 

This debate honestly went through my head, for what seemed like 3 min:

 

Catie, you should sit up & see what’s going on…nah…its probably just The Home next door…maybe its not…it kind of sounds like our alarm…what if someone is breaking into a neighbor’s house, wouldn’t they want you to look & see the car for evidence?  Nah..its probably just The Home next door…repeat.  For about 3 min.  No joke.

 

My curiosity finally got the best of me.  I poked my head out the front door to see Paula (head of The Home) and all of the residents standing on the side walk.  I asked her if she started the house on fire w/ the crock pot.  Its kind of a joke.  Sometimes, their alarm just goes off.  Its fortunate/unfortunate.  Unfortunate because its linked directly to the fire department, which means they have to come & investigate & its a whole thing, instead of saving cats out of trees (what else do that use that big ladder for?).  That is also the fortunate part (for the neighbors).

That’s where my dog becomes a hussy.

 

Lucy B Williams could NOT take her eyes off those sexy wonderful & cat saving  fire fighters.  I told her it wasn’t polite to stare, and it was even more rude to drool.  But she did it all anyways.  The lady has no shame…

*side note: mom, please do not judge the cleanliness of my house based on all the dog nose marks on the window…I’ll buy windex someday soon…promise*


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