This weekend we decided to mosey on into a nearby city to enjoy their summer festival. We really just wanted to go see the dog agility performances, since that’s where we took The Beast to “obedience” school. And to eat cheese curds. (How did I never know about cheese curds until I moved to MN? They’re delisc!)

The park was packed with people, especially families wanting their kids to learn how to fish. Way too many people for my liking. But The Beast was the show of the festival.

Seriously. We were walking and person after person after person with missing teeth asked, “Oh, can I pet your dog? She’s so pretty!”

Who? This cat dog?

*Note my awesome smurf-ness. I love being able to wear pajamas scrubs to work. And what’s up with my left eye. That’s funky. I don’t like it.

**Also Note: I’m not 12. I swear.

That’s a bit better.

Some people weren’t as forward, but we could hear them: “Man! Look at that dog! That’s a cool dog!” Not to sound braggy, but a lot of people, no matter where we go, compliment us on our four-legged kid. She’s kinda the coolest.

But what they don’t realize by just looking at her is that she’s no ordinary dog:

She burps in your face.

She stands on your hair while you lie in bed so that she can lick your face without you escaping.

She’s afraid of dragonflies. That are on the other side of the window.

The jingle of her tags can put fear into anyone, knowing that a dog body-slam is in their near future.

She jumps in drained koi ponds that are now complete mud.

She will find a way to take your spot on the couch, even if you’re the only one sitting on it.

She eats (numerous) DVDs.

She’ll sass you. Always.

Going to this festival made me realize that maybe I take this furball for granted. She’s always super excited to see me when I get home. She loves to cuddle. She’ll watch the Bachelorette with me. She’ll eat food off of the floor so I don’t need to sweep.

She could have run away with the circus, but she decided to keep our lives exciting and different every day.


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