died in the woolite

Marley is back! Ten days after I accidentally washed him down the drain when I stuck him in the washing machine, he showed up at the front door dressed in a soggy paper bag, cold and shaking like a baby held by an invisible British au pair. I ran and got him a nice fuzzy towel to drape over himself, and brought him inside. Oedipus puppy-pranced over, tail wagging, and got right to sniffing the air where, if he had a body, Marley's butt would be. It reminded me of a beautiful end-of-Homeward-Bound-type moment, right down to Michael J. Fox inexplicably showing up and shouting "Turkey!" while running through my house.

I called the cops. That shit was not cool.

dls