You have to know me for about 32 seconds before you realize that I LOVE dogs. Well, all animals but I realized that rescuing primates from the burbs of PA was unlikely. Had I been better able to stomach the sight of blood and master math I probably would have been a vet. Luckily, there is a lot of time after selling punk rock to afford me the opportunity to hang with my pack. Some have called it a hoard, but I call it happiness. They snore, and snort. They take up most of the room on the couch and fart all the while, but I laugh more in a day because of them. Six am finds me releasing the hounds from their various kennels and trying not to be taken out as they head for the front door. One, two, three. I put water on for coffee and tea and go back to the door to let them in. One, two three. I put the scoops of food in their bowls as they wait beside them. One two three. The symphony of scarfing can be thunderous. Then they go to each other’s bowls to see if anyone missed a bit of kibble. Most mornings laborious attempts are made and success is found for the little bite that got stuck in the crevice of the food bin. if they had words I know they would be shouting SWEET! I marvel at the tenacity of terriers. Then it’s back to the door for “twosies”. One two three. Then back in. One two three. Then to their beds. One two three. Where the snoring begins immediately. Yes, animals are work and expensive but the reward is so worth the cost in time and money.
My children are great, but my dogs are awesome.
Please adopt, don’t shop.