So we got a dog. We’ve always had dogs, my family. Both sides, actually. Dad had dogs growing up, mainly for the sheep. I’m sure my mum’s grandparents kept dogs too. And she had this amazing rescue dog, a German Shepherd, when I was young. When we moved to the house we’re in now, we got a dog, a collie. But she had to be put down last year, since she wasn’t well and was getting grumpy and aggressive with it. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done and she was just in so much pain. I miss my little puppy (well, at least she thought she was a puppy, Miss I’m-Going-to-Drop-Myself-in-Your-Lap-‘Cause-I’m-Tiny).

A year later, we have a dog again. We think we got a puppy, but I’m pretty sure he’s a horse. Seriously, I could whip a saddle on him and Trouble can ride him through the house. He’s… a tad bigger than we thought. A goldendoodle (not really my dog actually, more my mum’s and sister’s, since we are temporarily living with them). He’s lovely though. Just a little excitable. Could do with a bit more spatial awareness. He keeps smacking his head off everything. He’s apparently the smart one out of the lot.

I worry for the others.

And that’s my sister gone out to walk him. At 6am. Hah, like you’d catch… me… up at.. oh.

Never mind.



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