Rhubarb: deadly
Husband> How do you feel about your dog?
Me> Who- Jed?
Me> Well I- I love him.
Me> He’s my dog.
Husband> What if he did something?
Me> Look, a dog’s a dog. Every now and then he’s got to express his furry inner nature – you know, unleash the wolf . You can’t blame him for that.
Husband> I’m glad you feel that way.
Me> Huh really? Why?
Husband> He lay on your rhubarb.
Me> HE DID WHAT?
Husband> In fact, he didn’t just lie on it. He rolled around in it, wriggled a bit. Looked to be having a whale of a time.
Me> I put that rhubarb in last summer- it doesn’t produce for a whole year- I’ve weeded it, nurtured it-
Husband> Yeah, it’s a bit flat. And see, this leaf here is munched. Also that one.
Me: That <multiple expletives deleted> <and some more> mongrel!
Husband: What happened to ‘a dog’s a dog’?
Me: I’ll make a <expletive deleted> rug out of his pelt.
And I’m going to embroider it:
In loving memory of Jed
Beloved family pet
Lay on rhubarb
RIP
Seems the Jedster is in the dog house. Hehe!
Haha! As long as he’s not in my vegetable garden . . .
x
You know, the ancients had this tradition where, if you’d done something moderately bad, like murder, you could buy your way out by paying off the victim’s family.
How would it be if I mailed you some rhubarb, and Jed gets to live another harvest?
Since you argued so passionately and eloquently for Jed’s reprieve, I’ll grant him a stay of execution JUST THIS ONCE.
PS Can you mail me a rug? Thanks
x