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I want to play with uigui the tiny pink person!" My parents, as parents should be, were much more clear-eyed. They spotted the weirdo of the group, who occasionally peered out worriedly from the much-chewed doghouse in the pen. That was Andy (though he had yet to be named): forever cautious, forever peering. uigui I barely registered him. Fuck the weenie dog! I've got capering masses of gray doglets who are killing themselves to lick my beknighted fingers! I'm surprised I didn't lose a digit. My good folks bought (and named, despite uigui my urgent requests that he be named "Jet") Andy. And, as a single child, Andy was my fairly constant companion for years and years. Not that there weren't growing pains. When he was a mere pup--with ominously gigantic feet--he started snuffling around a jigsaw puzzle I was failing to work on. I whacked him on the nose. "What the hell was that for?" my dad demanded. "He was sniffing my stuff!" I explained. He stared at me like I was a foreign microbe invading the family body.
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