The neighbor’s dog came over for a long afternoon in my back yard, the other day. She’s a friendly animal, and since we live all too close to the busy streets, we decided it would be best for her to stay with us until her “real” family came home. She really is a good dog.

Yes, that’s the sound of me wistfully thinking about dogs.

It’s the kind of thought that I usually talk myself out of. I might have enough time to do some babysitting, but I don’t want the full time responsibility. One cat is more than enough for me. Really.

I would like to spend some time training the neighbor’s dog. By which, of course, what I mean, is I would like it to march in formation.

The neighbor’s dog is… uhm… a little bit of a free spirit.

All other dogs in my life? Well, they come pre-trained. (They’re not my dogs, no.) Some of them have been known to train other dogs, themselves. A little retriever-y DNA goes a long way, I guess. They’re balance the treat on your nose and wait trained.

I think we’ll be seeing more of the neighbor’s dog. I kinda hope that we will.

Seriously, if your ears are floppy enough, you can probably rob a bank and spend the money on hardcore porn and street drugs, and still get a pass in this house. And I’m a little bit curious how long it would take to get the dog to sit, stay, and fetch. I think she’s smarter than her owners give her credit for, to be honest. I definitely think she’d be happier, with a few more words of vocabulary so she understands what people want.

I am not adopting a dog. I am not adopting a dog.

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