The Dog of War

            Like I mentioned in one of my previous posts (Raven: Fishy Extraordinaire) I’ve always been an animal lover. I especially love dogs, and so does my mom. About 8 months ago we went to a mass dog vaccination activity in town to have my brother’s brand new Rottweiler named Piston properly vaccinated. Since it’s a small town we thought we’d see about 100 people at the most. Oh my, were we wrong. There were about 300 people and over 300 dogs. It was a sea of four-legged, barking fur. We waited for over 2 hours for little Piston (who is now a playful beast we have to watch out for) to get vaccinated. While waiting in line my mom was looking at the cute little puppies that were running around and squealing over the little ones that were in their boxes happily sleeping the day away. They looked SO cute! Too cute, actually.

 

            While standing in line my mom wandered away to say hi to some people she recognized at the back of the line (she knows half the town…). Not 2 minutes later she comes to me to tell me to go see a box full of Maltipoo puppies. I go over to see them, I look inside the box and there I am…absolutely in love with the little things! I asked about them and they had 3 females and one male, with 2 of the females already sold. Mother’s Day was coming up in a few weeks and I thought maybe she’d be up for a little puppy. She has always said that she’d want a small and fluffy dog, and what a better breed than a playful Maltipoo? So, I told the dog lady to save the little male puppy for me. After a month of thinking what we should name the new family member we decided on Ares. There’s more to the dog’s name than there is to his size. Without further ado I give you…Ares!

 

 

            He is a little ball of energy and a total attention whore. He follows my mother everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. His new thing is stealing whatever pieces of clothing he finds in my room, takes them to a corner inside the laundry room and takes a nap on top of them. I don’t know what is so appealing about my clothes that he feels moved to steal them and sleep on them, but it’s getting annoying. I no longer ask my mom for where my sock or my shorts are; I just go straight to the corner and get them myself. At least it’s better than his previous habit of pooping in front of my door whenever I was home!