Christina Plucks My Last Nerve

My younger dog, Frody, used to be named Kerberos. My daughters, somehow, managed to decapitate him, twice, while bringing him up from his previous home. (Boy, was Charon pissed at the mess.)

When we finally got Frody installed at home, he was a little confused: he wouldn't let anybody leave the house for a week. About that time, Loolie gave him some water she found somewhere.

("Where'd you get that stuff? It smells funny."
"Um."
"You're not gonna drink it, are you?"
"Um. I found it. I wanna put it in my water bottle for after band practice."
"Try it out on the dog first.")

After drinking it, Frody fell asleep, and the rest of us were able to go on about our bidness.

The older dog, Nimue, has only two heads and used to be called Orthus. She originally belonged to a very, very, very fat man (about the size of three men), and, still hung up on her first job, every now and then tries to herd us like cows. Some people think she's a male dog, but she's actually a former hermaphrodite. Seems she lost a few things, too, on her way to us, poor pup.

Jesus, please deliver me from these johnbrown memes.