Bub

My left hand is kind of numb, which makes typing particularly difficult. My dog, Bub, had a hard day. We took him to the vet to get him shaved down-- I was getting really sick of picking long, white, wiry hairs (the kind that poke into everything and can hurt if they poke your skin just right) out of everything. I tried to wait until spring, so he wouldn't get cold, but late February will have to be close enough. 

On Bub's to-do list when he got home today:

#1 drink the entire bowl of water

#2 snuggle up to his mom on the couch, pathetically hiding his face under her arm, and sleep

#3 an hour later, pee like he had drank an entire bowl of water

#4 eat 

#5 fall asleep on his mom's arm again, this time somehow managing to also cut off the circulation, and stay there until official bed time

I don't have the heart to move him. Nor the strength anymore. He hates to be away from us. I get home about an hour before my husband, and Bub spends that hour sitting next to me staring at the garage door, waiting. He won't eat or drink unless at least one of us is here, freaks out if we get out the suitcase and don't make a move to pack his stuff too, and always has to be sitting next to one of us, even if it's just in his bed next to my couch. Being left at the vet is hard for him-- he hates those cages, pants the whole time he's in one, and won't drink anything while he's there. Luckily he's not one to hold a grudge, obviously.

I think it stems from the fact that he was abandoned and spent most of his puppyhood either on the streets or in a cage at the shelter. I was supposed to find him-- I went looking for a small dog, one I could carry around with me, but when I saw his face, this caricature of a wizened old man with an innocent, love me even though I'm up to no good smile, I knew he had to come home with me. He was the only puppy in the cage. He adored me from the moment I brought him home. Now he adores my husband too, and the feeling is mutual.

Uh oh, I just got a stop-shaking-my-pillow groan from him, so I'd better quit now. He's almost seven now, seems to get more and more personality every day. One day I'm going to record one of his wookie-like yawns for posterity. Right now, a picture will have to do for you.