I grew up as one of six children - or eight if you count our dogs. My dad was crazy about us - his six human children. He wasn't such a big fan of the dogs. One fine day, he was done with them. He sent them packing. I vowed that day to be a dog owner when I grew up. I'm here today to say that I have been true to that vow, though I must admit it has been trying at times. I don't always want to pet her when she's in the mood. That doesn't seem to matter though. She just keeps nosing my hand over her head again and again and again. There are times when I'd like to take a walk alone, but that's not going to happen until I'm strong enough to tune out the crying that I hear through the door as I walk out it and up the street. I am not particularly interested in stopping to smell each blade of grass where a canine who made the same trek we are making earlier in the day (or week or month or year) has tinkled once we are merrily prancing down the road. The list goes on, but I won't.
Yet the scale is tipped in favor of keeping my vow, and I was reminded yesterday of a few of the reasons why. I thought I'd share them with you:
C-c-can I use your potty next time?
Yet the scale is tipped in favor of keeping my vow, and I was reminded yesterday of a few of the reasons why. I thought I'd share them with you:
C-c-can I use your potty next time?
"And I brought my horsey to sleep with at your house, Nana!"
If I come - do I get a treat?
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