My dog. 

I found her online last week and my tummy flopped at this picture. I just couldn’t stop staring at it. I had to meet her. I asked Violet if we could juuuust meeeeet her pleeeease.

On Saturday we drove several hours north, asked to meet her, took her for a walk, played fetch, filled out paper work, gave her a bath at the shelter, bought a leash, some food and a squeaky toy, and as soon as she hopped in the back of our car the three of us cruised home, windows down, sun shining. It was all quite dreamy.

Violet knew before we even left to see her, I know she did. I did too.

I haven’t slept much since we got her. She sleeps fine, all through the night actually. But I keep waking up really early and instantly my brain starts shouting, “There’s a dog in the house! There is a dog in a dog bed in the house! Play with the dog! Get up and go play with your dog!”

She is (so far) a dream, like if you could special order a dog over the internet with everything you want and don’t want (except that she doesn’t poop in the toilet and then flush – but she does only poop outside, so no complaints). She and Fraidy have met and seem to dig each other ok, so long as the snout sticking over the pond results in fish flakes. I have a feeling Marcus might pack up and move elsewhere and I don’t blame him. I’ll miss him if he does leave but he’s a crafty guy and will be fine under anyone’s deck. And who knows, maybe he’ll stick around and actually just wait until it’s dark out to strut around our yard, like a raccoon, and let the dog strut around in the daytime, like a dog.

We are serioulsy in love, all three of us. Man, if you thought I wrote about the fish too much…

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