The Dog Ate Her Homework — For Real

By the time I hit high school, the excuse “My dog ate my homework” was not only absurd, trite, and improbable, but already technologically obsolete. I had been doing most of my homework on a word processor since seventh grade, and as we all know by now, a stray magnetic field on a floppy disk or a full-on hard drive crash does a far superior job of destroying one’s mediocre paper on the construction of the Appian Way than even the most enthusiastic canine. It is true, however, that between 1984 and 1985, the Thousand Oaks Public Library lost several volumes of its science fiction and fantasy section to the ravenous appetite of a certain German Shorthaired Pointer owned by my younger brother. So it goes.

 

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