People are complicated. I really don’t understand them. And they really don’t understand me. Because if it, my heart breaks every day. And I probably break someone’s heart every day.
But this little guy. He sits on my lap and I pet him. He jumps for joy and loses his mind when I come home. He curls up with me when we’re sleeping. That’s not complicated at all.
They tell you before you get one that sighthounds are "really lazy," but I don't think you really grok it till you have one (or more) in the family. Like "they sleep 16-18 hours a day" is a fact that doesn't prepare you for the reality. "They really like blankets" actually means an exponential increase in the numbers of duvets and therefore duvet covers that need washing in the house.
This post brought to you by Ridley once more refusing to get out of bed, and clutching my legs so I can't get out of bed either.
I was working on an abstract with my headphones on and I asked myself why do I smell Fritos? I turned around and there Moxxi was, sitting behind me in silence like a serial killer. And let me tell you, it must have been a great nap because my girl had been FERMENTING.