Thursday, February 16, 2012
My BFF Homer
Wow! I didn't realize I was having such a fabulous life, I completely forgot to write in my diary! How did you survive without me?
I have so much tell you! I am now 10 months, with no signs of energy abating.
Au contraire, I'm feistier, and much more prone to mischief, now that I can jump on all cushy surfaces (but not on park benches, too hard on my butt).
I have a super duper best friend called Homer. He looks like a Cocker to me, but he is a fancy breed, Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, something or other. He's cool because he loves riffraff like me. Apparently, he will not play with any other dogs. Isn't that sweet? Alas, my love for him is platonic. I have a major crush on an aloof and handsome brown Dachshund named Dexter, who barely gives me the time of day. Isn't that how it always is? Unrequited love all around. Sigh...
Anyway, Homer and I, we hang out. We chill together. We play like maniacs. He's quite bigger than me and makes these weird noises when he plays, people think he's killing me. Except when he obsesses over a stick or a toy, in which case there is no way to get his attention. This makes me think that he was named after Homer Simpson, and not the guy who wrote the Iliad. His snotty sister Shea, whom I'm happy to pester with affection, sometimes prevents Homer from playing with me, like I ain't classy enough for her. But he always comes back.
He's rather possessive too, and he won't let me play with other dogs (and you know me, social butterfly) or with balls, which he intercepts every time I'm after one. According to Enchilada, this serves me right because I refuse to understand how to play ball. Other dogs bring the ball back to their owners so they can play catch. Not I. She is supposed to throw the ball to me and then come and get it. She needs to run after the ball, not I. I hide the ball. What's not to like about this game?
And speaking of possessiveness. As the humans say, WTF? What's with all the territoriality and the jealousy? I am independent. I am neither jealous nor possessive. A free spirit, I could care less if Enchilada showers another dog with kisses (she won't). They call me, I don't go. Why should I? They should come to me.
I rule their world.