Zack and I went to the North Texas Humane Society over the weekend. We’ve been talking about getting a dog for a while now–knowing that eventually we’ll both be working jobs that have shift-scheudles, and that in a matter of a few months, I could be spending nights at the house by myself. (Relative Terms Found in the Last Sentence: “by myself”– sisterkaty lives with us, but that doesn’t always mean that she’ll be at the house, because of the second relative term: “nights”, something that my 20 year-old sister seems to not be aware of.)

Saturday while we were at the shelter, we both fell in love with Scout. We didn’t get to pick her up until last night, due to surgery scheduling. So for three days, I’ve been dancing around the house in glee, wondering how long it will take me to train her to do awesome things like this.

She has already melted my heart. Last night she was so groggy because of the medicine; she didn’t do anything but sleep on my chest. I know that dogs aren’t cats, but I’ve only a cat for four years, and having one day of my dog acting like a snuggly cat was a really good moment of transition for me. This morning when I got out of bed (an hour earlier than usual, cause I just wanted to hang out with her) she was awake and excited and playful. She followed me footstep-for-footstep throughout the house all morning long, displaying that I was CLEARLY the CHOSEN ONE. (yesssss.) This morning, when we were hanging out in the dining room, she smelled my shoes, the ones I had taken her outside in yesterday. She took huge long whiffs, shoving her teeny little head into my shoe, and then took off running. She pranced back into the room moments later with her rope/bone, which she laid on my shoes as a gift.