Ob·ses·sion

Pronounced: äb-ˈse-shən. Definition: a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable thing, idea or feeling.

I had to look it up 'cause Mom says I have one. What with, you ask? Paper and tissues-particularly used tissues. It started when I was just a pup, riding in the car one day on Mom's lap. (She has her own little obsession with wearing hoodies. You know, the kind with the pockets in the front.) Anyhow, me having the nose of a dog (duh) and it ain't just for lookin' pretty-I smelled something wafting ever so gently from that pocket. My nose followed that smell to find the most delicous treat, a used tissue. Blissfully unaware of what was about to happen, she continued to flap her lips as I gently slid the tissue from it's nest. Gulp! I was hooked like Tatum O'Neal on crack. It's been a downhill slide ever since. It's even branched off into paper. Now I'm not as particular about paper-used, new-it's all good. Newspapers usually get Mom and Dad flying to my side. Oh but the other night I found what must have been a particularly valuable piece of paper. Mom had gotten the mail before we took our walk. She threw it on the kitchen counter and off we went to the woods. A fine time was had by all. So we come back and she proceeds to the living room for just a second, forgetting all about that valuable mail on the counter. I started sniffing and it smelled gooooood. It had a nice inky sauce drizzled over it. So I grabbed it and ran. When she saw what I had she turned a whiter shade of pale and immediately went for the BAD CAN!! (For those of you who don't know what the bad can is, trust me. You don't want to.) I'll tell ya anyways. It's a soda can with small, round objects in it and it's top is covered with duct tape. When shaken, it emits an obnoxiously loud noise and hurts my ears until I'm begging for mercy. I really didn't want to drop my prize but Mom's face scared me even more than the bad can. Once she had it back in her shaking hands, she calmed a bit and saw that I had not even torn what she was calling a "check". I guess that inky sauce on it is what makes it so valuable. I guess she'll be a little more careful where she places "checks" from now on. So all this to say, if anybody has any suggestions how I can break this addiction please let me or Mom know. We would be forever in your debt. Chester