My husband had a surprise for me when I met him for lunch the other day. His name is Cash and he's a 4-month old Boston Terrier that needed a home. He's such a lovable little meatball. I adore him.Although I've wanted a dog for the past couple years, I've never actually had a dog in the house. So suddenly living with a puppy has been an experience. Luckily, Cash has been great. He catches on so quickly, if there was a Mensa for canines, I would sign him up and pay the annual membership fee.
But, he is a puppy. He has typical puppy tendencies that I--as a new pet owner--don't really know what to do about. By the second night, H had to remind me that the dog does not speak English and that is why he's not responding well to, "Hey Cash. Go to bed and be quiet 'cause I'm tired and it's bedtime."
And lets be honest, he's not exactly the type of dog you put in a Coach purse while you shop at Barney's. He's got the face only a mother could love. He's been described as "healthy-looking." My brother said his face looks like the worst parts of the bible. He farts! He farts and a cloud of rancid sulfur fills the room causing visitors to look for oxygen masks falling from the ceiling.
Also, dogs are gross. They do gross things. Cash is a very affectionate dog, which I love because I'm a pretty affectionate person. I took him outside yesterday and in the middle of walking around the yard, he suddenly stops and rolls around on his back, kicking his little feet in the air. I thought it was adorable and starting rubbing his belly. I noticed he was getting dirty, but I didn't stop him. He's a dog! Dogs like dirt! Then I realized it was not dirt. It was poo. The dog likes his own poo so much, he felt the need to roll around in it. He was so delighted that he found the one poo in the entire yard, he just had to mush it into his fur and gleefully teeter back and forth like a vile, poo-covered weeble.
But he is my poo-loving meatball and I do love him.
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