This morning Kendrie came running in to me and yelled excitedly, “Mom! Mom! I told Lager to lay down ---- and HE DID!” like it was the greatest circus trick ever. Like he was some sort of genius pet, and it was a feat as heroic as a St. Bernard finding a lost skier and bringing them hot chocolate from a thermos around his neck. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that at fifteen years old, lying down is probably the only position he can comfortably hold for more than five minutes.
Speaking of old, tired pets ----------- one goldfish down. Er, belly up. You know what I mean.