I was in the middle of watching the latest installment of “Harry Potter” when I heard my sister screaming her head off from outside. I ignored it at first. I knew she was walking her three month-old puppy out in the street and chances are her reason for screaming like a banshee could be one of the following:
a. The puppy ran away from her when it saw a cat or another dog or a colorful gnome.
b. The puppy was in a frisky mood and was nipping at her.
c. The puppy decided that chewing rocks was a new fun pastime.
It turns out I was close to option “C.” When I peered through the window and called out to my sister, I was greeted with a half wail, half moan peppered with unintelligible words. So I went outside and I was greeted with the fact that the Labrador/Rottweiler mix was clenching a large dead rat between its mouth. And it stank. And before I knew it, they had stepped into the house. And before I knew it, I was trying to get the dead rat out of the puppy’s mouth with a brush that had a long wooden handle. Next thing I know, there were three of us trying to get that rat out of its mouth. Count us: THREE. My sister was holding the puppy with both her hands. Later, I would learn that the puppy was without a leash.
We caused a ruckus, the five of us (including the puppy). After the scene we made, I felt pretty much exhausted. I’ve said this line over and over again, ever since we got my kitten, ever since we got that puppy. I said this line before and I’ll say it again: Taking care of a baby is much, much easier compared to this.