It’s almost a year now since the Sherminator came to live with me. He has many nicknames, this spotted dog, and the latest one is Hairy Squatter: we’ve been reviewing all the Rowling movie adaptations so we’re ready to see the final battle for Hogwarts and the universe on the big screen some time this week.
Here’s a photo of Sherman the day after I brought him home. Sometimes I miss this little goober. He weighed about 20% of his current heft, and he didn’t have a clue about anything but snuggles and snacks. And farts. His gastrointestinal symphony was just as fragrant: he’s just added more tuba in adulthood.
Somedays, I really miss that warm puppy smell. You know; the one that smells like a mix of sweaty feet, overcooked meatloaf, and nacho cheese Doritos. Folks would never buy fabric softener in puppy scent, but everybody likes the smell on a pooch, probably because it comes with floppy loose puppy skin and satiny soft ears.
Oh boy, here I go. Cat got me going yesterday over at this sweet little darling on Cat, Chaps and Emma. I have puppies on the brain, and I’ve been day dreaming about bringing home a friend for Sherman.
Immediately as I typed that (seriously, no joke) Sherm walked by, tilted his head, and whistled at me. From under his tail.
I think one is enough, and I think I’ll go open another window.
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