We just got a dog; a really big dog — the biggest I’ve ever had. He’s like a cross between a horse and a wolf and a bear! His name is Lars, which is appropriate because he looks like a Viking dog. Maybe we can get him a gig in a historical drama or movie or something to offset the cost of how much he eats.
Lars used to live on the streets, but now he’s fully domesticated. So domesticated in fact, that he doesn’t like to let me out of his sight. He even wants to come into the bathroom with me. We have one of those small toilet rooms, which I guess is nice for privacy — but only in theory. I have to leave the door open, or Lars scratches and whines.
When I sit down to do my business, he barges right on in and demands to have his ears scratched. If I stop before he’s ready, he whimpers. His snout is all scarred up from fights and he’s got the most soulful eyes. How can I say no? I have to plan my trips to the bathroom for when I have a few minutes to devote to him. I suppose it’s a small price to pay for the love of such a big dog!