Sunday, July 20, 2008

The Silent Treatment

Someone is displeased.

After a jubilant greeting upon our return from the beautiful (though sadly pug free) wedding of a most dear friend in Long Island, Frank proceeded to glare at his dad and I, then assumed this position for the rest of the afternoon.

Every so often, if we perhaps tried to talk amongst ourselves or leave the room, this stance was embellished by a loud sigh.

Oh Frank, it is so very hard to be a pug...

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