When I sit down at my computer, the dogs consider it a challenge to become the objects of my attention. They sneak up and smack my mouse hand with their heads. They lick my elbows. They put their heads in my lap and make sad eyes. They lick my elbows. They toss their metal food bowls as though they didn’t eat an hour earlier. They lick my elbows. Depending on your position in the cats vs dogs competition, I either have the cleanest elbows in town or the nastiest.
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I walked in the vet’s office to pick up the dog who had been dropped off for her checkup earlier in the day by Doug. Two basset/beagle mix puppies were charming everyone in the building with their puppy howls, barks and kisses. After I loved on the puppies enough to guarantee looks of betrayal from my dogs, the puppies went to an exam room and the girl at the desk asked how they could help me.
“I’m here for the bad dog.”
In one movement, the girl picked up the phone, clicked a few buttons and spoke to someone in the kennel area.
“Dharma‘s mom is here.”