just me, myself and my miniature schnauzer.

Looking at each other in the eyes, we seem distant and strangers to one and another. We are still adjusting our nose receptors to our strange smells. Are we going to like each other? Am I going to be patient to this endless ankle biting sprees? Are you going to be willing to follow my schedule and my dancing sprees? Oh, and the cuddling? Are you going to handle it?

I’m a cuddling freak and I’ve understood that dogs hate that. Don’t care, going to hug you anyway. Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to give you food, don’t worry. Yes, my sweatshirt is made of wool and is now full of pilling after endless wrongly done machine washes by this misinterpreted home fairy that you can’t get enough of and don’t stop staring at it. No, you are not going to eat it.

Yes, my hair is down and smells great as a Pantene shampoo but neither will it end up being chewed by your little shark-sharp baby teeth. Yes, my breath stinks of Colombian Vintage Nespresso coffee. Just had an espresso to wake up my right eye. No, George Clooney is not here. You can now lower your fluffy half-pointy ears that half-cover your puppy eyes. Are you lifting your ears again? Yes, it’s House under Hammer on the telly.

Yes, my skin is still moist and tastes like rose water toner from Neal’s Yard Remedies down the road. And yes, your tongue is all sticky and no, you don’t have a stinky breath.

Your moustache is making me itch and it tickles. Sorry, I just sneezed. You look scared and I look embarrassed. Let me clean your nose, you cute silly miniature old man. Let me clean your… Stop moving restless puppy, it’s just my hand cleaning the remains of my sneeze. Your moustache colours remind me of Mr. Miyagi’s. Wait, you have small black patches of fur near your chin. You yawn. I yawn.

Need to prepare your food now. Need to heat water as your lack of front teeth indicates you are not a good chewer. But heaven forbids, you’re still capable of chewing my shoes. My God, you act like a vacuum cleaner as the food disappears in seconds from your small blue bowl that we bought to slow you down with its maze-like construction. Bless you, my small dog shark. You need to go outside. You just farted.

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