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.
No comments:
Post a Comment