The concept of war is outmoded. But I don't see the point in talking around what we are really talking about when we are really talking about war. A few people, men especially, still appear shocked when they find out what I do - not so much because I'm a woman, I assume, but because of the way I look. Because I like to wear long, clingy skirts and dark red lipstick and in my boots with heels I stand as tall as they do. If I let loose my hair, it would fall halfway down my back.
Waffles obediently bites down on the tiny weenie and for a second, nose to nose, they kiss.
My mother raises an eyebrow, and I wait for her to share some inane dog factoid with me, like how a dog's mouth is cleaner than a human's, but she doesn't, instead she sighs. Sunny is the wounded mother persecuted by a selfish ungrateful daughter. Mildred Pierce of Park Avenue. Dogs are easy. They listen, Mary Beth.