Saturday, July 23, 2011

I ask the question, "What does a dog say?", I answer the question, "Woof woof woof.", and Ari laughs.  Every time.  So, I ask.  I answer.  He laughs.  Repeat.

But, I think I may have played the woof game a few too many times, because, well, Ari has turned into a puppy. 

How do I know? 

For starters, he follows me around the house.  I walk into the kitchen, he enters right behind me.  I sit down at the table.  He crawls underneath and sits at my feet.  I go to the bathroom.  He scratches at the door until I let him in. (And then, he sits on the tile and watches me.)  He is truly man's Mom's best friend.

Ari pants and he drools and usually he does both at the same time.  Tongue hanging out and saliva dripping on the floor, Ari makes a quick, breathy, heh-heh-heh sound.  I do it back to him.  He laughs.  And then pants some more.

When I'm eating, Ari sits at my feet and begs for my food.  Often, he pulls himself up on my leg, stares at me with sad puppy-dog eyes, and whines until I give him some of whatever I'm eating.  Gazpacho.  Lox.  Dog sh*t.  It really doesn't matter.  If I'm eating it, he wants it. 

He eats grass.  And then he pukes.

We love to play fetch together.  I can throw car keys or a paper bag or a hair clip (wait, you mean none of those are toys?! Oops.) and he brings them all back to me.  Good boy.

He squats when he poops.

And, he licks my hands, he rolls around on the ground, he chases balls, he digs in the dirt, and he likes to have his tummy scratched.  He hasn't started smelling butts yet.  But, at this point, it wouldn't surprise me.  If only he could master "sit" and "stay".


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