On Having a Cute Dog

This is (Phillip J.) Fry. He is a nine week old husky with a heart of gold and kibble.

My housemate and her boyfriend invested in the pup about a week and a half ago. Things he loves include: stinky shoes, dried leaves, kibble, fleece blankets, and warm toes. He's a strange beast, but we love him nonetheless.

Mallory and I took him for an hour-long walk/leash-tugging marathon today. There's something delightfully awful about walking through bunches of people on a busy Wednesday afternoon in the downtown core. Most, if not all, of them stop to make some comment akin to "HOW CUTE" or "CAN I PET HIM?!" He's not my dog, but I can understand how it gets daunting after awhile. My poor housemate. She's become a mechanical robot in the past little while, with answers ranging from "yes, I swear to god he's a husky" or "why, okay, I'll listen to the dog training advice you have given me, strange woman on the street corner." Poor girl.

I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I just wanted to show you a picture of Fry. He's so cute. He nibbles my fingers and jumps on my bed and scares away stray cats that we let into the house sometimes. But oh my god he's so cute.

End.

Productivity

Just another silly summer song - the second on the elusive Eight and a Half's album. Right now, there are only two songs out.

I'm heading back to school tomorrow morning. Quite a bit has happened in the last few weeks and, I must say, I am more than excited to return to the city for the summer. I love my life at school but, as it typically goes, things have been feeling heavier as of late. Transition points are like this.

Instead of studying for exams, I have spent the past few days with family and with the Mockingjay trilogy. I've been reading too many works off my English lit syllabi as of late. I may have needed this YA fiction break, as embarrassing as that can be to admit.

Before I go, here's one of my final articles from the Features section of the Journal. It was one of my favourite pieces to write this year.