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Martin & Harriet -  On Fleas and Leaving


Harriet, you never could take care of animals.  I was the pet person in our house. 

Yes, of course, Dear.  A real Dr. Doolittle.  This dog is infested.  Thatís what I get for letting that dreadful woman next door take care of him for the weekend.  Heís filthyÖpoor widdle Winston.  

I always hated that dog, despite his adoring me. 

Ha! He didnít adore you, Martin.  He just wanted to stay close enough to bite your face off. 

Yes, all eleven pounds of him.  Could you PLEASE stop his infernal yapping!  How DO you stand it? 

Heís my baby.  God knows we never had a chance at kids, but he makes up for it.  These bloody fleas though.  Theyíre driving me mad.  Driving him mad, too. 

He was already crazy when you took him in. Harriet honestly! You pluck them off and hurl them to the floor as though you think the fall will kill them.  

Iíll take him to the vet.  That should fix his awful problem. 

The only problem that dog has, wife, is you. 

Jolly good thing Iím not your problem any longer, eh Martin? 

Iíd give a big hip hooray on that one, Darling. 

By the way Martin, any word yet on your departure?  Itís been ages since the funeral.  Iíd like my life back, if itís not too much trouble. 

Harriet, I have no idea if itís too much trouble or not.  I do not have a pipeline to the Almighty.  I have no clue what Iím doing when Iím not here.  Iím not sure I exist at all when Iím not here. 

Well if you must stay so long Martin, donít interfere with my life.  I have a life.  You do not.  Not any longer.  Even though youíve always been mildly entertaining, this routine is getting a little old.

 Iíll be sure to pass the message on, Dear.


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