Dogs.

Today in my teenage angst, I am a dog person. I've had eighteen cats over my life. Not all of them for long, but all of them beloved. When I was six we moved from the big city to a farm that had two dogs. We didn't actually farm, we just kept up the house; and took care of the dogs. I didn't really like or dislike the dogs they were just there. I didn't really pay them much attention.

My best friend lived on a ranch growing up and had several border collies to help in herding cows. I grew accustomed to these babies but did not love them. Cats. Only cats.


In my twenty-second summer, my boss asked me to house sit. I was all for it. Then she added dog-sitting to the docket. I said yes but I did not, in fact, have a clue how to dog sit, especially for their two hundred pound Bullmastiff named Molly.

This thing is the sweetest I have known. Bulldogs, of all varieties, are seriously emotional. They feel what you feel before you feel it. I saw this in her as pathetic and too adorable to handle. I loved that week with her and considered afterward, officially a dog person. 

Now I can't look at a dog without squealing a little and wanting to pet it. This almost cost me a hand a few months ago at the library. I came across this video on Nova's blog and died. Is there anything better than a dog hanging out a vehicle window? Not after this video there isn't.

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