Ginger possesses ears that are part rigid and part floppy. They stand out from her head and yet slump alongside. She moves them forward to hear better and back to the point where they become invisible. One unique ear attribute is when she shakes her head, sometimes they flop over her head.
The first time she was just a pup. I chuckled at the sight because it look silly funny. I pointed it to mom who flopped them back while babying her. So, I positioned them back on top annoying mom and for nine years this was a running gag. I flopped the ears on top of the head, she flopped them back. Occasionally, Ginger walked around for hours at a time with them on top of her head before mom saw them and put them back.
Here is the best part, Ginger comes to me to receive ear flopping, then runs over to mom to have the un-flopped. Of course, she receives love each time and she does this as much as three times in a row. Mom always complains about why everyone picks on her because even the dog likes picking on mom. Picking on mom is a true family tradition.
Did I mention my dog is a Karen? Last Friday I satirically wrote about Ginger’s rage at the telephone repairman. I printed a copy and went to read it for my wife just after lunch. Ginger awoke from one of her numerous naps during the day upon me entering the bedroom. (She tries to sprawl entirely over the queen size bed not allowing anyone else room.)
As I read about her first scream of fury at the man doing his job, she rolled over onto her back and with a helpless but hopeful stare at mom as she begged me to stop. I kept reading only now it was with a chuckle at her antics. I voiced her displeasure at being sent to the room and Ginger groaned with embarrassment, but I kept reading with more amusement.
By the time I finished, a steady stream of “Grummmm and groannnnns” came from her vexed disposition. We paid the price for laughing at her as she grumbled at mom for the next half hour. As for me, she delivered the cold shoulder all afternoon. She rang the bell to go out, saw it was me, and ran back upstairs. What else would you expect from a Karen?
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