When I turned around, and there he was. My dog doesn’t just shamble in and lick you like a normal dog, you see– he sneaks up, and stares at you until you feel the heat of his eyes burning into the back of your head, and receive the mental message: "Walk me," which he has been transmitting over and over.
Doesn’t he kind of look like one of those little kids from The Shining? Like, how long has he been sitting there? Why does he have that passive-aggressive, slightly disappointed look on his face? What’s going on with this dog?
Quickly (before I look at him again and turn to stone)– we ended up going to San Francisco last weekend to celebrate our anniversary– saw lots of old friends, ate too much, drank too much, the whole thing. Came back yesterday, and have been digging out of my inbox (and the final re-read of the novel) ever since. Swear I will post something interesting soon.