Have you ever come home and have your doggies lick your wounds? No, I mean literally, they will lick your wounds whether you like it or not.
Have you ever came home to your roommate running the vacuum loud in her transgendered room? It is a funny sound to hear.
Have you ever seen your husband watch television on his phone because you have no cable and only the Internet to watch Netflix? Yes, this is the scene I describe when I come home.
I read somewhere that a good blog is between 750 and 1000 words. Other will say that you can have great blog writing 500 words per day. I choose the higher word count to gain traction to gain readers hopefully, but the reality is what would this 38-year-old know about anything.
Now, back to the topic at hand. My dogs love me unconditionally, whether or not I pay attention to them or not. They get, they love the attention, and they always come back to lick more wounds. They have a constant, consistent behavior of love.
My dogs will greet me at the door, kiss everyone they meet, and will snuggle under the blankets because they know that they are at home.
Whitey is a White Terrier mix who loves his daddy.
Caramel is a Brown and White Chihuahua mix who loves to lick people’s faces.
Laurel is a Black-faced and White bodied Terrier mix who acts like she is a pit bull who loves to sleep on her mama’s legs.
As I am typing this, my dogs are quite cute, cuddly, and friendly. You will never meet any animals more lovely or happier in your life.
Terrier mixed dogs love to burrow into the blankets on your bed, they love to eat Milkbones and treats; I love to feed them beef.
Anyhow, while I write I need peace and quiet; but my husband thinks that he can chat with me while I work on sharing with the world my doggies that love.
As I typed this line, each of my doggies came on my lap and licked my face.
Both of the girls Caramel and Laurel think that they are dogs with a blog. They believe that they play a significant role in typing this themselves, but little do they know they both are a topic of the conversation. My boy Whitey boy is also handing around thinking that he can get in on some of this action. I commend them all for being here for me and making sure that I am taken cared of.
Not in closing, this house smells like Pinesol because the tranny decided to mop her room after vacuuming her room. She does not know the idea of conservation because everything is handed to her on a silver platter on her terms.
Now, Laurel is literally chewing on my leg, not knowing that it hurt my leg and opening my wound, while the Nintendo music blares in the room like a disco tech.