Posted November 18th, 2003 by Michelle

I live with a sweet creature called Dolce. Dolce’s needs are pretty simple: many scritches on her back and head, time outside, haircuts, and the occasional potato chip stolen from my stepmom’s fingers on the way from the bag to mouth. She is pretty finicky with her food, and often decides she doesn’t like the game she’s playing and will take her ball, plop on the ground, and turn entirely inward.

She is also very loving, and wants more than anything to be part of the family. She wants to sit at the adult dinner table and will do so the minute anyone gets up for seconds. She will slam her head against a cracked door, trying to get out, and manage to shut herself in, helpless to get herself away from whatever is bothering her. She will chase the ball, try to grab it, but ultimately will shove the ball even further under the chair when it was easily within reach of a gentle paw.

She wants to understand what is going on, and intently watches the people who speak of things she doesn’t understand. She spends days looking out the window at nothing but the wind on the trees. She will sleep ten hours at a time if no one disturbs her. She barks at the coyotes when the fire department alarm sends them howling, and part of her believes that she could actually take them on. She accidentally interrupts conversations; her social graces are perfect at best, and occasionally abysmal.

She has a habit of making things worse than they already are, and of sometimes getting away with things purely on charm. She wants for companionship, but seems to entertain herself when she’s all alone. She is not easily trusting, but when she decides she loves you, there are no limits to her affection and loyalty. She lets you know she wants to be with you by slamming her entire body on your closed door.

Remind you of anyone?

*Sigh*

At least I don’t have to be walked.