We agreed to get a dog the first week I went freelance. And when I say, “we,” I mean, I finally caved in to my spouse’s incessant pleading for a dog. To his utter surprise, a month ago and seven or so years later after Mr. Dog came to live with us, I agreed to get a second dog.
It’s nice to have a dog when freelancing. At least it looks at you when you moan about having to renumber citations eight times. For christ’s sake why can’t people with Ph.D.s in science cite each source IN NUMERICAL ORDER ON FIRST MENTION! There. It drove me to all caps. (Spare me your observations that they may have added or taken out sources and were more interested in the content than getting their citations straight. I just don’t care.)
Walking a dog gets you out of the house when you can’t take it anymore. They’re cute and love you. So why not have two dogs? I mean you could just drive a few states away and pick up a gorgeous poodle dog who was rescued from Louisiana because her owner died and the family didn’t want her.
So now in addition to having a little muppet thing (Mr. Dog), I have a horse, by which I mean a tall 36-lb poodle lady. I can’t work because I have to get up and go into the other room and look at her lounging on my couch. Is she comfy? Is she really mine? Holy shit!