Recently, we puppy-sat my parents' Morkie, Teddy. He's the same age and breed as our Yoshi, so the girls were excited to have two dogs to play with. Teddy, on the other hand, was decidedly less excited to have three little girls chasing him around. At some point on Monday, the craziness of them swarming him got to be a little too much for Teddy and he nipped at Chloe. This resulted in many blood-curdling screams, but nothing more than a small scrape on her hand. Quite reasonably, in my opinion, my thoughts turned to Old Yeller and I called my mom to make sure ol' Teddy was up to date on his shots.
After the crying and the bandaging and the kissing of boo-boo's subsided, I starting fixing their peanut butter and honey sandwiches and I asked the girls if they had ever seen the movie Old Yeller. I knew we had seen some sadistic children's movie, but I wasn't sure if it was this one or The Yearling. They couldn't remember either. "What's it about?" they asked.
"Um, it's about a boy with a dog that gets rabies and so the boy has to shoot it." No point in beating around the bush.