Bert is not particularly trustworthy. In fact, he gets into my bathroom garbage (and all that it entails). He runs away to have a great time by himself around our apartment complex--unless I have the unfortunate shock collar on him, at which time he'll act like a perfect, yet nervous, gentleman.
Thing is, I'm a huge HUGE sucker for Bert. Nights he runs away and doesn't come back when I call and call (and call) his name, I shut the back door, put my boots and coat on, and head out the front door, because inevitably, he will be out front, sniffing parking spots and the grass in our common area or places where other dogs have marked.
And every time he sees me, he looks so genuinely delighted. As if he thinks, "Oh! It's you! I was having a great time but I suppose I'll come in now." Until he sees my expression. And then he sits because he's afraid.
I feel bad when he's afraid. BUT what choice do I have? We got him from the shelter because he was a stray. Clearly not a stray for long... he was very clearly someone's pet that probably just got away. And yet, they never looked for him or reported him missing. So there's that. I keep expecting to find a puppy pancake out in the parking lot or on the busy road by which we live.
|Don't worry, Bert gets a semi-annual (or something like that) bang and bum trim. I'm sure you wanted to know that. Also, I have never cut him, so that's good I guess.|
I have a lot of things I can tell you about each and every single kid, which I think I will. I want to remember this job and the joy it brings me.
It's warmer here than it was in November. Also, the snow is melting. It's really strange, but I don't want to complain, lest the weather rear its ugly head.
And that is my life, today, in a nutshell. See you 'round the building.