i have the greatest dog in all the land

and i feel like a bad pet parent, sometimes. he got a tick a couple months ago, for the first time ever and i made the mistake of googling images of dogs with ticks–please save yourself, it’s horrifying–anyway he had another one tonight and i couldn’t believe it. it’s winter, i mean i thought they hibernated or some shit, they shouldn’t out out chomping on my dog. unlike the first time i was able to get out the whole tick, so as long as he doesn’t get infected or diseased it should be alright. i just feel sad when he’s hurt and it’s my responsibility to make sure he’s okay…and he probably will be, but i never want him to have to hurt. plus between school and work, my time has been super limited, so i ask my roommate to keep him with her and her cat–they’re great pals, it’s really adorable. i’m trying to teach him not to go in her room, though, so it’s a little counterintuitive… he’s always eating chowder’s food, cos he’s such a lard and i have him on a diet. so instead of bones i give him carrots, which he loves, however he hates the fact that i only give him a cup a food a day like the vet recommended. he gives me this sad, sad look and scratches his bowl until i tell him to stop, at which point he lays down next to his bowl and whimpers ever so slightly like a little punk. i tell him I’m sorry, and i know diets suck, but i don’t want him to die and the vet says healthy weights contribute the most toward longer lifespans. of course he has no idea what the fuck I’m talking about and cocks his head and perks his ears in the most adorable little puckered up face, i can’t even. he’s six, and i think about how his life is half way over and how when he’s gone i’m going to to watch a dreadfully boring video i took of him eating a bone and cry. it’s silly now, but man is that going to be a substantial film for me in what’s hopefully at least seven or eight more years.

puck-a-luck!

puck-a-luck!

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