When I was four my family had to give me up, so they brought me to a shelter in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I remained incarcerated for a year, at the end of which I was transferred to the Huron Valley Humane Society in Ann Arbor, Michigan, in a last-ditch effort to find me a home. Five days later, I did. This is the tale of my happy ever after.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Smell Of The World
When Mom and I go for our walks, I love to take a few minutes every time and roll around on my back. I wiggle; I roll; sometimes I look for hills so I can slide down them. Great fun! I laugh and wag my tail and enjoy it as much as I can, every single time. Mom isn't sure why I do this, but here's the secret. I love the way everything smells, and I want to smell like it; and I want everything to smell like me, so everyone knows I've been there and called dibbs. I always laugh to myself whenever Mom says that the house smells like dog (which it never does for long, sadly, she's constantly making things smell boring); it doesn't smell like dog, it smells like the world. And the world smells like me.
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