from Quantum Physics & My Dog Bob
A week before I started eighth grade, my father, tired of my “aimless ways” as he called them, decided to give me a project. “I’ll give you seven days to train that goddamn dog of yours to quit digging holes in my back yard,” he said one Sunday morning. He opened his wallet, pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “Succeed and this is yours. Fail and you get dog shit.”
“Nada, zip, zilch, zero. You get a hole in the ground upside the house that fills with water after every rain and threatens the very foundation of this family’s hearth and home. Understood?”
I rolled my eyes. “What family?” I muttered.
My mother had left us two months ago. Who could blame her? It was just me and my father now.…