Last night I did something incredibly stupid and I am having a hard time not being mad at my dog about it.
This is really unfair of me, and I keep trying to remember that. I had been thinking about leaving her with my parents when I moved out, but in the end I decided to bring her and so far it has been a great decision. Except for the fact that, as predicted, she is falling in love with my roommate and will shortly be wondering, "why does that mean girl always make me sleep in her room at night, when clearly I would rather be with my favorite human?"
But she really has taken to the new environment pretty well. She doesn't freak out at the sight of another dog (as much) anymore, and I'm pretty sure she likes our walks in the park across the street. She's also gotten into the habit of waiting at the front door when she needs to go out, and looking at me like, "don't you know I need you right now?" at which point I stop whatever it is I'm doing because THAT LOOK, it is adorable.
Last night, we were watching Lost dvds and every fifteen minutes the dog was standing at the door, giving me THAT LOOK. So we'd pause the show and I'd go stand outside with her while she did nothing. Except try to chase birds and sniff around in the grass.
This happened about four times. By the fifth time I was super annoyed but what if THIS TIME was the time she really meant it?
Well, it wasn't, so I pulled the leash to turn around and go back inside. There was more slack in it than I realized, and I lost my balance and tripped over the curb in our parking lot, twisting my ankle. And today? It really, really hurts. I don't think it's anything serious (and let's hope not, because the insurance plan I have right now, between jobs, is called the "Daredevil Plan," and not because it provides extensive coverage for people who like to get hurt. I am not kidding), but it is uncomfortable enough that I have been staying off my feet today.
So it isn't Francie's fault. I know. But it's never been so easy to find a scapegoat for my clumsiness.