Angela Types

I found Bruce rather by accident about 6 years ago while running errands for my grieving grandmother. She had just lost her third child (of six) and asked me to deliver various payments and run general errands around town.  I found myself at the florist placing orders for the funeral, painfully selecting "elegant but not too flashy" thank you cards, dropping a check off for an urn, and lastly paying the gas bill (Don't be late! That's due! {not for another two weeks it wasn't} It'll ruin my credit if I'm late!) My grandmother was the queen of early. She had me convinced that my inspection and registration stickers actually expired the month PRIOR to what the sticker indicates. I would hurriedly rush to the mechanic for an inspection on the 31st of the month, out of breath- "Please don't take me to jail!" My college roommate discovered what I'd been doing and she set the record straight.  Ironically, empowered with this new lackadaisy atti...

When I return home from work Bruce greets me in a manic explosion of joyous wailing, jumping, and kisses. I sometimes imagine him at home with his well used worry beads, licking them all day long. "Will she ever return? Where is she? How long has she been gone? Why can't I tell how long it's been?!" I let him outside and he keeps an eye on me while he's marking this tree. I see him twitch his nose, look down at the ground and actually jump away as if screaming "What the f*&k is this?!" I walk over to investigate and there's this rat staring up at us. Bruce is by the front door at this point, he's abandoned me. Woman’s best friend my ass. Like any god (and rat) fearing American, I grab a stick and poke it. It's dead but it looks alive. I poke it a little more so I can see if it's missing any parts, or search for some cause of death. Bupkiss. It looks young; around my age in rat years. So, old age shouldn't be the cause. I C...