I now have a dog.
Literally. I have a dog. A 7-year old purebred Welsh corgi. A very overweight corgi, as you could probably tell from the above photo, so she is on a diet and exercise regimen until we can get her back down to a healthier weight.
Gypsy here has attached herself to me with such strength that not even duct tape could equal. From the first time she laid eyes on me, she determined that I was going to be her owner. The only other time I have seen this happen is when Alice came home for the first time.
And yes. It is weird having a dog. For one thing, scooping poop in public isn't exactly the most suave thing in the world. On the other hand, I now get plenty of attention at Starbucks when I go for my venti whole milk white mocha. Well, okay. SHE gets plenty of attention. I just sit and bask in her glow.
I'm not too certain about the name Gypsy, however. It goes against the naming tradition I've built. Buffy the Miller Moth Slayer, Alice in Wonderland, and Wendy Goes To Neverland. I should change it to Buttercup for a Princess Bride reference.
Don't ask me what the cats think about this. The response would be unprintable.
2 comments:
This is how it starts: First you get a dog, then you get rid of the cats, as the dog is better company. Then you become a Republican.
Bwahahahaha!
Yes, very nice dog, congratulations.
Nope. The cats are going nowhere.
And the Republicans are even more clueless than the Dems are.
But watch closely. There's yet another addition to be announced.
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