It rumbles deeply--threateningly.
Its noises grow closer, louder, more terrifying with every passing minute.
It screams as if it has borrowed the throat of a banshee.
She believes it portends death.
Sandy, the revered Golden Retriever, stands in the back yard and shrieks a howl of defiance and warning.
Unable to defend her family, or herself--
unable even to muster the sheer lunatic bravery needed to catch a glimpse of the devil--
she flees to the only safe place she can go....
Oh, Cassie. *sigh* The garbage truck is not going to steal your soul.
Why do you act like it's the last horseman of the apocalypse (after the UPS man, FedEx, and thunderstorms)?
You're turning a year old on May 14th, and I think it's time you start acting like a big girl.
I didn't realize we were having thunderstorms this afternoon, Cass. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.
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