PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY!
Roommate Katie recently rounded up a new person to replace Roommate Andrew. He won't actually be our roommate for long since Jacob and I are moving to the back unit, but nonetheless I will call him Roommate Frank. Or, I will call him The Roommate With A Puppy!!!! (the exclamation marks are included in the title). He came home yesterday with a 3-month-old retrievery sort of pup, complete with velvety soft floppy ears and big sulky brown eyes. She might be a mix of a Labrador and something, or she might be some variety of African lion-hunting dog. Or, she might be tail-waggy and sniffy and cuddly and interested in eating plastic bags. It's all very uncertain.
She was groggy from her spay surgery yesterday and not really feeling up to much activity. This meant that bathroom trips outside required Frank to pick her up in her puppy bed and carry her down the stairs like a big puppy burrito. Jacob and I stood on the porch and watched her little fuzzy head, flopped on her giant paws and swaddled in a huge amount of plaid blanket, bob slowly down the stairs. It was so cute that my brain exploded. I put it back together, though.
Oh. Did I say we won't be living here much longer? Well, never mind that. The construction on the cottage is lagging again. The date when it's expected to be done, which started out as mid-July and moved back to August 1st, then August 7th, has moved back again to, "well, probably the 15th or 20th." I've got enough perspective to recognize that this isn't any kind of catastrophe for me; until it's done, I just get to stay in my nice apartment where everything's already set up the way I like it. If that's not enough, I also get to play with the puppy. PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY YAY.
That said... argh. I was starting to excitedly count the days until I'd have my own desk on which to set up my computer, meaning I could actually check my bank balance without having to talk Jacob away from his games. I was drooling over the prospect of a bathroom with 2 fewer people taking showers in the morning, thus eliminating the daily shower-versus-toothbrushing races. I thought longingly of an uncrowded fridge, finding the same utensils clean that I'd left clean, and knowing whose hummus that might be. My countdowns have all gone to hell now, and I'm left dreaming of getting the boxes of books out of the doorway--packed up in preparation for moving last week--and the roll of carpet pad out of the hallway--a bit useless in an already carpeted apartment, really. Sigh.
I wonder if Catcatcat is thinking of us. They were nice, she says to herself, they liked my fuzz. They were supposed to come back for me. Will they? Maybe they won't. Maybe they don't love me. Maybe they only love puppies.Posted by dianna at August 6, 2004 10:41 AM