God, I'm dramatic. It's cool, though. I have good reason.
So over the weekend, The Fiance and I spent much quality time with The Parents' Dog, Ozzie. Ozzie's a Keeshond. All big and fluff-like. Maybe has a bit of attention deficit disorder. Also bites. Me.
Anyway, The Fiance has a relationship with this dog that rivals that of peanut butter and jelly. I swear to God. They're all, in love. Ozzie even has a pet name for The Fiance. The pet has a pet name for The Fiance, who, I'm not sure if you know this, is a human. It's Uncle Hermie, in case you were interested.
So we go home to visit The Parents, and it's all, "Yay! Uncle Hermie's home! Run! Jump! Play! I love LIFE!" And then he bites me. The dog, not The Fiance.
We'll lay on the couch to relax, and within minutes Ozzie is in our laps. And by "our laps," I mean, "he sprawls across me to get closer to Uncle Hermie, whom he loves more than rawhide, and don't I dare touch him because, Jesus Christ, I am here to kiss UNCLE HERMIE!" Followed by a bite.
And that's pretty much how it goes. All the time.
"Uncle Hermie" thinks this behavior and relationship is the most special thing since golf. I, however, fit nowhere in the equation. It's cool. Just wait until we get our Boxer one day.
And then he said it. These words actually came out of his Ozzie-Loving Mouth:
"Can we get a Keeshond?"
Oh, do you hear that? No? Well it's the world crashing down around me. WHAT? A what? You want a WHO? Did you just say Keeshond? I'm sorry, but you meant to say BOXER. A Boxer. You want a Boxer.
I think somewhere in there my eyes also bled fire, but I'm not sure. Ask Ozzie, because he was RIGHT THERE IN THE FIANCE'S LAP.
Anyway, my mind control paid off, and The Fiance forgot he ever said it. But I'll make sure Our Boxer knows every word of it. And Matilda will love ME. All me.