The very official looking customs agent at the big airport was so thrilled with me, he took his glove off to pet me. I have that effect on people. They all go "OMG! SOOOO CUUUUUTE!" every time they see me. My owners say they can't walk two steps without someone stopping by and asking about my age, gender, breed. "Is it a puppy?", they ask. No, it's a dinosaur, what do you think?
Enchilada confessed that she was happier when she didn't have all the neighbors cooing and making small talk at all times. Imagine, she hasn't even brushed her teeth or combed her hair (as if) and she needs to get into some inane dog chitchat first thing in the morning; when B.P (Before Petra), she could be a verbissener New Yorker who barely said "good morning" in the elevator. She claims she liked her anonymity then. She thinks that this is how supermodels or movie stars must feel at all times and claims she was invisible until I came along. Hey, it's not my fault that I'm a charmer. If you don't like this, you should have gotten a tarantula.