And, well, I can go into why but I think one picture will speak louder than blog words.
His name is Charlie, he’s from Kentucky, he weighs approximately a bazillion pounds and up until three days ago, his only personality flaw was his inability to climb the three flights of stairs back to my apartment after a walk- resulting my carrying his adoring, wriggling mass until my arms give out and we both collapsed on the kitchen floor. Now he knows there’s bacon bits in it for him when he gets to the top so he practically pulls my arm out of the socket to get up there.
I already can’t imagine a life without him.
Other things of note- His full name is Charlie Bagel (Charles Bagelworth when we’re both in formal attire). He also, bewilderingly, answers to Mr. Shmoopy Pants (when I’m overcome with love from across the room and devolve into my own adoring, wriggling mass at the sight of him).
He was rescued first by the Chicago Canine Rescue. If you’re in the neighborhood and interested in saving a life that will then adore you/become obsessed with the peanut butter you keep in your cabinets, I highly recommend them.
It’s his first real home and my first dog. By the third day, I looked very much like the mother of a newborn- messy hair, stained and gross sweatpants, bags under my eyes. BEAUTIFUL. Suffice it to say, his adjustment was worlds easier than mine. Go figure. (PS I look hot again now. Well, as hot and attractive as a girl who works from home can be. Which is, albeit, slightly less hot than, say, a beached whale on a summer day).