Rumor has it that the dearly departed was a slow learner. That may have been true. After all, how many times did she find a pair of crotch-less panties on the living room couch before she put two and two together? “Oh, my god,” you’re saying under your breath, “the world doesn’t need another kinky Fifty Shades of Gray kind of book!” Nothing to worry about here. This isn’t a raunchy novel or a story about a woman who comes home unexpectedly to find her husband having a fling with the neighbor’s wife and she doesn't remember anything after that until she wakes up one morning to find herself serving hard time for a double homicide. Nope. This is an obituary you’re reading for a woman who was a dog lover and all dog lovers know---well, most of them know---what happens to underwear that is accidentally left where it becomes fodder for our furry friends. Bras become pull toys for puppies. Panties become pacifiers for poodles that are lonely and left to their own devices.
Few people knew who the real Jean was but an outgoing voicemail message on her cell phone gave a clue: “I can’t take your call at this time because I’m in a meeting down at the Seven-Eleven with a Russian spy.” ©