Feeling: snuggly
Listening to: humming "My Funny Valentine"
Reading/Watching: The Grieving Tree... one of these years, I'll actually finish it.

As mon coeur continues to sniffle and snork his way to health, life rumbles on in interesting ways.

My brother Maffrew called me saying that a friend of his was giving away a huge litter of puppies, and if we wanted one, he and his wife would get one for us and either bring it to us or hold it until we could come pick it up. He also e-mailed pictures. He said they were mutts, a litter of eleven from two farm dogs that were mixtures of all sorts of things, like Australian shepherd, border collie, beagle, German shepherd, and who knows what else.

Mon coeur and I have been discussing getting a pet, but we wanted to wait until we knew what job he would have after the air force, so that the pet wouldn't have to move with us, or possibly starve to death as we scraped by on Ramen. I'm even going in for an allergy test to see if my problem with cats is treatable, so that we might be able to take one of the kittens that Satan and Persephone's adopted stray had.

So that, coupled with the pictures, made the decision very difficult, but in the end, we decided to wait as we'd originally agreed, so no puppy for us. Besides, all those mixed-in breeds mean the size of the dog is difficult to determine, and our apartment is small enough to make life tough for a big dog with lots of energy (or rather, to make life tough for the owners of a big dog with lots of energy).

Naturally, I'm looking at the pictures Maffrew is now sending of the little lemon-and-white mutt that they kept, and dying a little inside, because oh my God puppy. I desperately need something small and furry to snuggle on; I've missed having a dog since I left for college.

In the meantime, I guess I'll settle for my husband. He's furry enough, and while he's all wobbly and achey-headed from the cold, he's quite snuggly and puppyish.

Plus, when we were tossing around plans for the evening, and I told him "I don't want to get in the way of what you'd most like to be doing," his artless reply was, "Oh, but the thing I like to do most is you."

That little Freudian slip led to a delightful discussion of what (or who) he would like to do second most, and he said Alexis Bledel. So I'm quite flattered to have ranked so highly. Never thought I could compete with those gigantic baby-blues.

Comments? 0 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.