Dogs

I have two dogs. They are pretty adorable. Not like ooosty cutesy adorable. They are big dogs. Man-sized dogs. I mean, if I wanted to I could fight those dogs. But I don’t. I love them. When I walk down the street people stare at me. I mean, here’s me. A petite, baby-faced, young woman with these really big, aggressive looking dogs. I feel like it’s probably a turn on. For guys. Girls too. It’s unexpected. And I own it. I give a sly smile and keep walking. But my dogs are also super friendly. So if someone stops my dogs will go up to them and wag their tails. They’ll lick their legs. Try and kiss their mouths. And people will be so surprised that these scary looking dogs are so friendly. Then they’ll look at me. And I know what they’re thinking. They want it. I’m kind of a dog park celebrity. It’s not only that my dogs are cute and huge…which they are. I believe I’ve said. But they are so happy. Infectiously happy. So people think I take care of my dogs. Which I do of course. I make their food actually. It’s pretty expensive and it takes a lot of time. But it’s worth it. I sprinkle in some vitamins. And mix in cod liver oil. I have a few dog beds. I like one in each room. But they usually sleep on the couches or on my bed. Sometimes I have to sleep on the floor if I get to bed after them. If I try to move them they look at me. Kind of a confused and shocked look. I had a bad childhood so I just let them sleep. Sometimes I take their pictures as they sleep. Then I look at the picture as I’m looking at them sleeping. They make me happy. They’re the only reason people talk to me. I don’t know what I’d do without my dogs.