Many people seem to think I'm not a dog person. This will come out at the strangest of times. Like I'll be sitting in a conference room at work waiting for the meeting to begin, and randomly someone would turn to me and say You're not a dog person, are you? Or I'll be out walking with friends, and out of the blue, same thing. You don't really like dogs?
It took me a while to figure out where these statements were coming from. I think it was because in the meeting room a coworker will be talking about a new puppy and I don't immediately start shedding tears of joy and wonder at his little bundle of cuteness and love. Or out on that walk we'll pass a few dogs and I'm not jumping up and down, clapping my hands and scream-whispering DOGS! SO CUTE MY HEART HURTS!
Listen up. Just because I don't go all crazy and squeal like a pig in a slaughterhouse, doesn't mean I don't like dogs. Or babies or cute guys, for that matter. It just means I'm not insane. Like everyone else on the planet, apparently.
So when my friends Kortni and Chris asked me to dog-sit for them, I was happy to do it. Happy. And it wasn't because they have a big livingroom table that's perfect for setting up a sewing machine. It wasn't because of their movie selection, or their ample liquor supply. It was because, wait for it....I LIKE DOGS (and Kortni and Chris).
And when Kortni was all Are you going to blog about the dogs because that would be really cool if you did but no pressure but my mom will be checking every day to see if you did and you can use pictures and whatever you want, I was all Sure! I would love to have your dogs on my blog. Because I like dogs. So there.
Now I'm going to introduce you to the dogs. And share information about them to prove that I know them.
This is Riley. He currently has his chin on my knee, and I can't tell if it's because he loves me, or if he wants my toast. Or both. He likes to gnaw on a rubber bone that makes the most awful sound, like nails on a chalkboard in hell. When I come home he leaps out into the garden and runs around in a figure eight for a few minutes, then won't come inside unless I stand over him with my hands on my hips. Then he runs into the house and chews that damn evil bone. Kortni said that I'd get used to the sound eventually. Day 12 and I'm still waiting.
See, I've been caring for two dogs for almost two weeks, and not only are they both still alive, they are healthy and happy, and aren't peeing on my bed or shredding my shoes, which I think means they like me. And other than being perma-covered in dog hair and the constant ear-bleeding from that damn rubber bone, I like them too. I may even write more about them, including little anecdotes how they were particularly cute this one time, and what happened when we encountered that squirrel in the rain.
So there, world.