Ergh. We have a dog. Well, until Wednesday.
And the "ergh" is not from what you might think (the breakdown of my nine year resistance to getting a dog for my begging, pleading, poor, poor pet-free kids.)
The "ergh" is for the reality that I look at this little dog we're pet-sitting for a friend and think: "Cuuute!"
The "ergh" is for the reality that this cute little thing follows me around and seems to really like me. From the reality that this cute little thing is making my kids squeal with joy and beg to go to bed so Tiger can sleep with them. From the reality that this cute little thing is snoring peacefully next to me as I type this and has yet to pee on my carpet, chew up my furniture, or shed one strand of hair on my furniture.
Ergh.
