I have a dog now. Tessie Larue. And, she's fabulous. She's a semi-baby boxer, complete with a moosh mouth and newly forming wrinkles. She genuinely makes me smile. Consistently, on a daily basis. She tries to bat me around like a fellow canine pal when I'm doing Pilates. She greets me with her butt, wiggling sideways toward me, wagging her little nubbin tail, when I come home from work. She jumps up, puts her paws on my shoulder, and lays her head down on me - just like she's giving a human-like hug. She looks at me with these inquisitive, big brown, almost-wise eyes, as if to say, I love you no matter what the day was like, you know."
She's a pretty darn good pup. Already one for the record books, and I've had a lot of canines come in and out of my life. For being only about 7 months old and a resident of my home for a mere three weeks, she has only been rebellious once. A week ago, she escaped her cage during the day while I was at work. I have never confirmed how, actually, but I suspect it was through the top. She broke and wiggled through, climbing out to freedom. She was understandably pissed off and ruined my blinds. I think the blind-shredding was just her way of saying, "I really hate that cage." I'm just shocked she didn't chew anything else. Nothing. Not even the biggest chew toy of all - my brand new, supple leather couch. Instead, she just jumped up on it, got comfortable on the faux-fur throw, and watched VH1 until her humans returned.
Tess has been a Godsend over the past few weeks. It's been a while since I've had a dog - due to my nomadic existence the past few years. I have a dog now, and life is better because of it. She loves me. And dogs are never wrong.