Word: dogged
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Take your daughter to work day, in April, is a brilliant idea, and I can't wait to take part in it once my little girl is old enough to stop confusing "writer" with "waiter." Take Your Dog to Work Day--June 22--is a cynical copycat that for me confirms this cold truth: in my heart, my daughter and my dog are not equals...
Before my baby came along, my dog was my baby. He arrived in my life the day after my wedding, a gift that my husband and I had no memory of registering for at Bed Bath & Beyond. But an 8-week-old basset hound--all ears and belly and panda paws--is way cuter than a vacuum cleaner. We set his quivering body down on the city sidewalk, and he promptly sucked down a chicken bone. We named him Hoover...
Hoover was a difficult dog. Bassets are genetically narcoleptic, but ours made a case for canine Ritalin. He careered around the apartment possessed by a long-eared, drooling demon. He practiced situational bladder control on our cherry-wood parquet floors. He grew into 60 lbs. of torso with 3-in. stubs for legs, yet he could do a dead leap off the kitchen floor to swipe a pizza off the counter. Plus he bayed--a siren of woo-woos that endeared us to our condominium neighbors. But after every misdeed, he would turn his googly-eyed gaze...
Like many a childless couple, we conferred the status of treasured child upon the dog. We phoned each other with updates of his escapades. We gave him nicknames like Bunny and Sir Gas-a-lot. Framed photos of him adorned our home and my office. For Christmas portraits, we dressed him in a Santa...
...Presidential ballot as an independent; he can also serve in a Democratic or Republican administration (or on a Democratic or Republican ticket) as an independent. And even if he just serves out his term and returns to the private sector, there's now at least a possibility that the dog catcher candidates will leave him alone...