I promise this blog will not become a shrine to my dog. However.
This picture made me laugh for twenty-five minutes. He looks psychotic, deranged even, like he would meander up to me drooling, asking for directions to his spaceship.
It was a completely lucky shot, and it's also completely hilarious, at least in my opinion.
I don't know when my life started revolving around a dog, but it's odd. At least 50% of the conversations between my husband and I start out with, "Did he poop?"
When did I become so interested in dog feces? Better yet, when did I start becoming OK with talking about feces in general?
The highlight of my day was that he was better behaved than fully grown dogs at the vet. He's not perfect, but he also wasn't ripping our hands through the leash to get to the other dogs. He barked maybe five times. When did I begin to measure my happiness by a dog's behavior?
It's a strange direction my life is taking, soon I'll be carrying around pictures of my dog and start calling him my baby.
Actually, no. I probably won't do that.