The Smell Of Farts And Desperation

This is not a story about covid. This is a story about when I decided to adopt a dog while recovering from covid. You get to decide which has been more stressful. I thought a dog would mean unconditional love and cuddling and yes, an occasional poop in the living room. And also sometimes he would go to the bathroom in the house. But I think I actually got catfished by the dog formerly known as, “Inmate Number 799.”

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Everything Hurts

As a child I used to like to brag about how many injuries I had acquired. Each open wound, scar, allergy, and bump signified notches on my ladder of life accomplishments. As my injury count rose, so did my tier of badassery.

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