When I was growing up, my family had the Best Dog in the World. Murphy, a cocker spaniel who slept in my bed every night, sure had some quirks – he was impossible to walk, had no idea how to play with a tennis ball, and howled when left alone – but what lovable family pet doesn’t? He brought out the quirky in me too – until I was too old to admit, I would insist that Murphy was my future husband. But of all the things I’m grateful to Murphy for, perhaps the most unexpected is this week’s resolution of a long-standing joke argument between Trevor and I.
You see, unless I’m having the best hair day ever, when I return home after work, along with my contacts being removed, and, most of the time, pajama pants being put on (yes, at 6:30PM), I put my hair up like this:
But this week, I received the She’s-Always-Done-This-Let-It-Go backup I’ve needed, from the always loyal Murphy (By “received” I mean “noticed,” being as this photo has sat on my dresser for the last 3 years):
I realize the quality of the photo makes it look like 1967, but this is actually photographic proof from approximately 1997. Or, as I like to call it: Vindication!