Someone once said ones strength is in ones teeth.
And that could very easily be true.
As you grow from being a tiny baby, teeth slowly grown in as you grow.
And then slowly but surely you become old, and your teeth fall out.
And eventually you die.
Hm...
I'm being replaced by a dog.
She's even stolen my name. My name.
I'd say I don't care, but it's far from the case.
I do. A lot.
She's not even cute. Far from it.
Ooh she's rare and she'll live fifteen years.
That's good. That's great.
See if I even remember her fifteen years from now;
When I'm thirty, happily married,
To a gorgeous successful man,
With adorable kids, a beautiful house,
And a thriving business.
You and your little dog will be the last thing on my mind.
