So I’m in love with this dog and I get to dogsit him for three days next week and they’re probably going to be the best three days of my life, except for when I dogsat that other time in 2008. His name is Dexter (like the cartoon scientist or the serial killer, whichever you prefer) and he’s a foxhound and I am his #3 favorite person in the world, besides his dad and grandma.
We’re going to go for walks and I’m not even going to complain about having to live in the Financial District for three days, despite the longer commute and the fact that it’s eerily dark and quiet at night and I would worry about getting kidnapped if I didn’t have a giant 60-lb. dog to protect me. He’s already excited because he knows he’s going to get hours of pettings and sometimes he tries to return the favor and pet me back, but really he’s just stepping on me. Then when I go to leave, he tries to eat my flip-flops so I am forced to stay and give him more pettings.
I think his dad is kind of worried I won’t actually give him back.
