My dog makes me have to go home to walk her after a night out. This means my nights out are now necessarily more tame than they used to be.
My dog equally loves her crate and her bed, and she knows that the bed is for when I am home with her and that the crate is for when I am at work. She keeps certain toys in one, burying other toys under the cushion of the other.
My dog is a wild woman outside of this apartment–testing limits, willing to run far with total respect for her leash, curious about everything. Yet, she is perfectly contrite and well behaved inside of my apartment. Hmm. Reminds me of someone….
My dog is also a crazy girl on her walks, always looking for the next pint-sized lizard to chase under a thorny bush. She has been known to smack her nose into a fence while going after these ever-elusive creatures that scamper across sidewalks by the hundreds in my neighborhood. When she does this on her morning walks, she causes my coffee to spill all over the sidewalk, and I curse her very being–for about a second.
My dog lets me dance with her, as long as I snuggle her close and don’t let her feet dangle for too long.
My dog loves my music. She listens to it while I am at work. It puts her to sleep every time–except when we are dancing.
My dog waits for me to call her to jump in my lap when I am working at my computer. She concentrates very hard as she watches me type. Then she points out my typos.
My dog allows me to pat her soft head whenever I need that kind of fix. She laughs with me during the good times and never questions my tears during the other times.
My dog lets me clean her ears, even though I always forget this important part of dog ownership, and then cleaning her ears is, well, more of a production than it ever needs to be.
My dog has no clue how to use a cell phone, how to text, or how to email from a computer. This means she has no clue how to tell me she can’t hang out with me or how she didn’t call because her battery was dead or how her DSL was down or she would have written. That’s right–I feed her, I walk her, we dance, and she’s my best girl forever.
My dog is the best idea RG Daughter ever had for me, next to a pair of Seven jeans she found that fit me perfectly. Actually, as my dog rests her chin on my knee and I smile at the memory of the boy from my previous post who has asked to take my dog out with us more than once, the Seven jeans don’t even compare.