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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

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  • 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.

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  • 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

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  • try and squeeze his head through the tiny little jar. I then made sure the puppy didn't run out again and gave him tacit look, and the puppy did nothing but kept his face

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  • 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

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  • 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!

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  • 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

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  • 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

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  • 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

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  • 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.

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