Waiting for the Day

Really, I have so much to write about, but dude, this is what I get to come home to every day. EVERY. DAY.

It’s okay to be jealous, and yes, you can come to visit. She’s perfect. I drive home a little faster to smell her little neck folds, get doggie kisses and watch her roll around the living room. When I get home, she’s so excited to see me that she wiggles all over with joy and whimpers until I pick her up, then licks me until I want to swallow her whole with love. This is my first dog, really – I had a few when I was a small child, but I never really had a dog that I was responsible for, and I never really knew how much they love you back. At the vet’s office today, she was so ridiculously happy to see me after being weighed, I thought I might love bomb her to death.

Is this anything like having a baby? Anything at all? Because if this is how much you love your child, and then some, I might want 11. Because I already want 30 dogs, and Adam just lamented that pugs only live up to 14 years because, “I want her around for the rest of my life. FOREVER.”

Because Sunny? My little dog? Is really awesome. As awesome as she looks and then some.

*Erasure. From Chorus, which was a fabulous album, and I don’t care how uncool it is.

22 comments March 28th, 2006