Gratuitous dogishness
This is my dog.
I spent almost seven years obsessing over the fact that I could not live without a Maltese, when in fact, the seven years that I spent living without a Maltese were seven years that I spent living without a Maltese. Seven years is a long time to live with an obsession.
In case you own a Rotweiller and are looking down at me from your doggie-high-horse at this very moment, let me clearly state that :
1. My dog is not a rat, he is just a rat-sized creature, which means that I can cut up a sock and use it as a sweater.
2. Yours licks his hinder parts, as does mine, so I don’t exactly see the big difference as well as intelligence goes.
3. Can you put yours in a purse and take him _______ ? Didn’t think so.
Yuki and I are inseperable, two peas in a pod, except that one pea is way way bigger than the other, and would squish the life out of the other if they really were in a pod. But they aren’t. And they love each other with a fusional streak that makes others worry a little.
Yuki is a lover, a licker, a poo eater, and a snuggly big of lovey dovey squishiness. I’ve never had a really smart bunny rabbit that needed to take walks on a leash to relieve himself, but I guessing that it would be about the same.
Oh, and did I mention that he’s the most disgustingly cute dog in the world? People jump in front of moving vehicules just to come and say hi.
One more thing : I know, little dogs are for old ladies, right? I know, but I’d rather be the old lady with the little dog than the old lady with too many cats.
