I love a lot of things. I love movie theatre popcorn and yoga pants and Staedler Triplus Fineliner pens. I really, really love hockey and Kanye West and country music and boys (like, a lot). But what I love most in the world, more than any Canuck or carb, it is always the same: my dog.
Fajita is literally perfect. Not flawless, because he has some anxiety issues and an underbite, but perfect. He completes me. I spend way more time per day than I should thinking about Fajita, buying things for Fajita, and stalking Fajita around the house. I am obsessed with him.
For years I wanted a white Chihuahua. Not a little shaky one, but just a smaller dog with a Chihuahua-esque face, and ideally kind of chubby. I watched Petfinder and kept almost-adopting dogs – I’d get fixated on one, call to go meet him, and he’d have already been adopted. (This is the same saga my best friend is going through trying to get a pug, sadly.) I was resistent to the idea of purchasing a puppy because I don’t fully agree with it, and I always figured that it was just bad timing.
On a weekend trip to Edmonton, we made an impromptu visit to the humane society . My best friend joked that I’d probably leave with a dog. She was, as she usually is, completely right. Continue reading