Pushing Daisies

I used to have this super retarded jack russell terrier named Daisy. She had one brown ear and one white ear, and weighed about 15 lbs. She was 4 months old.
My church did this thing biannually where they'd make all the kids in the congregation perform the service. Someone would lead the congregation in the opening hymn, someone would do the opening prayer, someone would do a special musical number, someone would do the scripture reading, someone would pray about the reading of His word, someone would collect the offering, someone would pray about the offering, someone would tell the children's story, someone would pray for the children, someone would do the pastoral prayer, someone would give a sermon, someone would lead the congregation in a closing hymn, and someone would do the closing prayer. So, they put up the bulletin in the foyer and we all got our part. I was telling the children's story.
My puppy had a million toy's, more than any dog should ever have and definitely more than any deserves. But she had one in particular that she loved like her life depended on it. It was, at one time, a grey wolf, with white tufts of fur on it's ears and stomach and bright blue eyes. But at this point it was an ugly mangled shell, all of it's stuffing was ripped out, it was missing an eye, it's fur was hard and dirty from Daisy chewing on it constantly, and it smelled like rotten Purina puppy chow. Daisy didn't care though, she would just lay on her pillow and chew on that thing day in and day out.
I woke up Saturday morning and realized I had completely forgotten about telling those kid's a story. Church started at 9:00 am and we were walking out of the house when I saw Daisy's ugly wolf sitting next to my brothers really cute Ty beanie baby, Tuffy. "Don't judge a book by it's cover" popped into my mind, so I grabbed those animals and took 'em to church to teach those kid's a life lesson.
My dad never comes to church. Some other things my dad never does is think, close the door to our house, or put our dog on a leash. Later that afternoon when we pulled into our drive-way my littlest brother ran full speed into my mothers arms. He was balling his eyes out, choking on his own breath and just screaming nonsense. Then out walks my father.
"Dog's dead.", he says, completely emotionless.
My brother catches his breath, looks at me and screams at the top of his lungs, "AND IT'S YOUR FAULT!"
At this point tears are running down every member of my family's face, and every member of my family is facing me.
"How is it my fault?", I asked.
"Well," my dad matter-of-factly replied, "you took Daisy's toy. If she had the toy she would have layed on her pillow, but since you had it she ran outside when I left the door open and got hit by a car."
Then my mom glanced at me, shook her head, yelled out a jumble of curse words and stormed into the house. Slowly the rest of my family followed her lead. As they did my youngest brother turned and screamed one last thing to me..."I HATE YOU!! YOU KILLED OUR DOG!"
Well Daisy, I hate you and you killed yourself. Luckily for me animals don't have souls.