The reason I ask is that Mr Peabody was supposed to be about 2 when I got him, but I think he may have been younger, in part because he stopped chewing things after about six months, and it seemed to be mainly because it wasn't fun anymore. He was more obsessed with shoes than anything, although he did chew the arm of the sofa.
Mayor ,'Lies My Parents Told Me'
Spike's Bitches 47: Someone Dangerous Could Get In
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
The exposition in this movie is so awkward. Psychiatrist asks, "And did these visions continue after your parents died? After your father killed your mother and then killed himself?"
Oh dear, Hil.
bonny, sending all strength to you as you let this frenemy go. Uggh.
I give up. Not going out tonight. Gonna take half a Xanax and read a dumbass magazine. Whee!
He was more obsessed with shoes than anything, although he did chew the arm of the sofa.
Fortunately, the stuff he has actually destroyed has been relatively meaningless. He tends to carry shoes around, but has not harmed any.
He also seems to enjoy moving my small, red plastic shoehorn around.
I hope the phase passes quickly.
bonny, sending all strength to you as you let this frenemy go. Uggh.
Thanks Hon. The super upside of all this is that I am truly appreciating the people I actually love. Present company included!
eta: I have not breathed a word of any of this mess to the frenemy's ex...any more than I've spoken to her about him.
In a fantasy that will never become reality...I want to support him in his life change by pointing out that, despite the galactic depth of the hole he dug for himself in years gone by, his growth has eclipsed hers in a major way. I suspect he doesn't need me to point this out...but it would still feel good.
The red plastic shoehorn strikes me as the perfect dog toy. It's small! It smells of feet!
Oh, and there are underwater swimming scenes to show her isolation and alienation.
The red plastic shoehorn strikes me as the perfect dog toy. It's small! It smells of feet!
Precisely! I had put it up, out of reach for many weeks, but brought it back down this morning when I applied my sneaks for our morning walk. This afternoon, he reminded me that consistency is key.
His foster suggested that he was 11 months when they acquired him in March. This would make him about 14 months.
Really? He looks younger than that to me. I think you might be right.
In a fantasy that will never become reality...I want to support him in his life change by pointing out that, despite the galactic depth of the hole he dug for himself in years gone by, his growth has eclipsed hers in a major way. I suspect he doesn't need me to point this out...but it would still feel good.
Just leave out the comparison to the ex. "You know, you have managed to write a much happier ending for yourself than I dared imagine for you, when I first knew you."