Scary Dog, Poor Typist

There was a dog outside of the door and he was answering correspondence. It was a big mean looking rottweiler but he looked engrossed in his writing. Chris had nowhere to be, but it was still a bit worrisome that he couldn’t leave his room in fear of the dog that was currently using Chris’s computer. It was the third Thursday of the month and Chris had forgotten to leave before 9 am.

Chris paced back and forth in his bedroom trying to get a clue as to how to proceed. There was a dog biscuit he kept in his pillow case for just this contingency. He had never tried it before but the principles were sound. It was just a matter of the proper throw and the will to dare.

Sadly, he was lacking in that will. All there was to do was to wait for a dog with a 15 words per minute typing speed to catch up with the last six months of his email. Later, Chris would look for an apartment with a more orthodox landlord.

The question of how his previous landlord put on reading glasses without thumbs would haunt Chris eternally.

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