Recently, the lives of my family and I have been massively overhauled by the arrival of a little black labrador named Pippa. Although, she is sometimes referred to as 'STOPLICKINGMEFACEYOUCRAZYMUSHROOM.'
Dat dog IS crazy.
Our love for that midget bundle of black fur consequently, and unfortunately, means that we've been turned into the kind of dog-owners whose main topic of conversation revolves around the most nutritious variety of dry kibble. Instead of my Mam baking us flapjack, she's now more commonly found pounding steaks and garlic into a pulp for 'Pippa's Special Meat Cake.' And even me Pa (bless his soul) has replaced the background picture on his phone, from one of his two precious daughters, to an image of Pip acting like a crazy person.
I too, however, have succumbed to the charm of that little lab. I let her chew on my slippers. I don't even mind if she coughs in my face. And she's recently developed a technique of hitting me round the head with a plastic baton... but I still love her.
This is the culprit:
Told you she was crazy.
My Mam worries that she has an oddly-shaped head. But unless she wants to wear a hat, I don't think she'll have future problems.
Although saying that...
She fits into our family pretty well because SHE LOVES DA BEACH. She's scared of the actual sea but she enjoys running like a gazelle across them sandy planes.
Gettin' protective over her plant pot.
(If you steal it, she's likely to chase you with the plastic baton.)
Bonding with Pipsqueak
As much as I've been trying to deny that I'm a sad and smitten dog owner, I'M A SAD AND SMITTEN DOG OWNER.
Can't be helped.
