Ma always told me I'd catch my death. She

Ma always told me I'd catch my death. She was right. Death fit in the palm of my hand: a little Death. Not only that, but Death was a girl! And she was none too pleased that I had

a series of mason jars containing other anthropomorphic abstract concepts. I slipped Miss Death next to Mr. Right and Joe Blow. Then I noticed the Sand Man's top was ajar.

Naughty, naughty. That puppy was trying to get out again. I put on my cap and ran outside to catch him and put him back in his jar. He would suffer, as I would

and car keys. I looked around and didn't like the way things were shaping up. This appeared to be some foreign 3rd World back alley and I the only one wearing a puppy suit. I would

have to seriously re-think my choices in people with whom I surround myself. I mean, these guys may be thugs in a back alley, but can NO ONE dress up as a puppy like me? No fun!

I turned my back on them and tucked my little fabric tail under myself as I crept from the alley. Through my puppy-head eyeholes I could see the world opening up before me. There

were an awful lot of people in stiff clothing shuffling about, oh so taller than me and my plush toy puppy body. Hardly anyone noticed when I dashed out into the throngs in order

to use the breathing techniques I learned in therapy to help ease my anxiety. This was all so strange! Maybe this world is too big for a fuzzy toy puppy like me. I tucked my tail

between my legs and shrunk away. My tail got entangled in my legs as I walked a cliff’s edge. I wondered as I fell how in hell a cliff always shows up at the most inopportune time.