My dog- am I still allowed to call him my dog or is he now, since I'm a Real Person, considered my parents' dog? I have no clue. At any rate, Milo is a real treasure of a Golden Retriever, but he never finished the portion of puppy school that teaches the puppies how to come the instant they are told to. He gets it eventually, but holding the storm door open at 11:30 PM, welcoming every blood sucking member of the local mosquito population into the house, repeatedly ordering Milo to "come" in my most authoritative voice while he stands there staring at me, slack-jawed with eyebrows aflutter, makes me hate him. He always redeems himself though.
I think I heard somewhere that they don't have mosquitoes in California. I might have made that up, but I don't remember getting viciously bitten by them while I was there, so maybe there aren't. Which is great and all, but let's not forget that there are no black widow spiders in Massachusetts.
My night would be infinitely worse if I had just let dozens of black widows into the house. Thinking about it makes mosquitoes seem kind of peachy.
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