Sometimes a Girl Just Needs a Dog
Yesterday I picked up my dog. Seriously. This guy is mine.
He’s old. He’s gigantic. He’s quiet. He doesn’t snore. He ignores the other dog. He just exists with me.
I realize that things could change, as he may actually be depressed to be leaving his former home of 8 years, but I’m pretty confident he likes me. I started with bribery – treats in my pocket for him when we picked him up. Done. I mean, he is a dog after all.
Deciding to become a two dog house was a big deal for me. I mean, I can’t keep things together with the four humans and one active dog that already lives here. Or at least, I haven’t been trying to keep things together. There’s only so much a hormonally unbalanced, unemployed girl can do. But, over dinner one night the family discussed the prospect of o’l boy coming to live with us. The extra food to feed. The extra (big) poop to be picked up. Vet bills. City license’s.
I need balance of personality in the house. My three humans are morning people, as is the little original dog. They are all active, funny, happy, all up in my face (I can usually deal with the people, but not the dog). I just want a teammate, a companion. He hardly needs anything from me, but is totally there when I need him to be. I can curl up next to him and get some energy by osmosis. Or calm myself with his steady breathing and warm body.
He’s probably going to die unexpectedly in six months.