When we have steak for dinner, and no one saves a piece for
Tchoups, he gives me the same look that my dad gave me in high school when he
found out that I made up a fake weekend field trip, complete with faux
permission slip, when I was really planning to spend the weekend partying w
friends. "It's not so much that I'm angry with you. I am just SO
DISAPPOINTED. It will take a while for you to earn my trust again." Sorry,
Tchoups.
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