My Old Dog

When I was in ninth grade, my parents took my sister and I to get a brand new puppy dog. My sister was set on getting a little black toy poodle. We named her BB Jellybean, though now we can’t remember if it was supposed to stand for “Bad Breath” or if we were just extremely uncreative.  For years, she was the prize of the family. She never went more than a few weeks without a groom and always sported bright toenails and bows in her hair.She went everywhere that we could take her. We would argue over whose bed she would sleep in. She would get a weekly shower and blow dry.

Things have certainly changed in the life of BB over the last 14 years. She’s no longer the cute little poodle that we were so proud of. She has an extreme underbite and a huge… something… growing out of her forehead. She often gets looked over by members of  our family in favor of the other, younger dogs. The only way she gets a piece of table food is if it happens to drop and inch from her mouth, and the person who dropped it is too lazy to pick it up.  Instead of sleeping on pillows like a princess, the poor thing walks around with nuggets of poop hanging off her tail because the only grooming she gets is an occasional trim with the kitchen scissors. Sad, I know.

However, I have just found a really good excuse as to not feel so bad. In fact, I’ll be happy the next time someone asks what kind of dog BB is. Check out horrific article about a boy whose poodle got “fried to death” at the groomers…


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