A sign that a blog entry should not be published: as you are pressing the backspace key, the webpage disappears leaving you at the blog's homepage.
The computer decided I will not be writing about the importance of style and grammar. Instead, I will write briefly about Scooter, and call it a night.
Scooter is curled up next to me at the end of the couch. Her brown collar matches nicely against the couch's dark basil hue. Her tongue is hanging out lazily, draped over the cushion. Her left paw is bent back in a position that only appears awkward and uncomfortable. The twitching starts - her front paws vibrate and stop. Twitch, pause, repeat. Then the big twitch hits; her back end briefly shakes, and I feel it. A car driving by startles her. Her eyes are now open and alert. Her tongue, dry and blood orange red, belies the concern about the car. Unsure of her next move, she slurps her tongue, and flops off the couch only to settle on the floor. It is a busy night for the Scooter.
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