I mean...you are bound to be able to form opinions on me based on my sporadic content and general literary tone, but let's be clear...I will not be divulging any juicy secrets or personal pastimes of mine.
Except for this one. Because it's not so secret for any relevant friends and family (or social media followers for that matter). I don't have my own dog. I have my family's dog, Ginger, who I get to see every other month (ish) and absolutely adore. And then I have Larry. Larry isn't mine, but I have him often enough that I have rightfully and graciously been named his godmother. Larry, as I alluded to last night, is another top reason as to why I have the utmost confidence in surviving knee surgery #3.
Larry has the warmest heart. Yes he licks feet and jumps on you when you open the door and rests his nose in the forbidden areas, but Larry loves you. And by you, I really mean me. Larry is the man in my life that has made me feel second to none. He was sitting at the picnic bench charismatically sniffling and inspecting the not so lush grass when I went down with my ACL tear 10 days ago. You better believe he showered me with the perfect balance of sympathy, kisses, and patience. I expect nothing less when exiting the operative haze in a couple of weeks. If there is one thing I know, it's that there are no bad days when Larry is around.
Today is no exception. Despite the inclination to sit and do absolutely nothing for the afternoon and evening, knowing that Larry's ball-loving nature (and nurture) would go unused is too heartbreaking to bare. Severed ACL and all, we took to the park, picked up trash and poop (we do our part), and played fetch. Old school, one-on-one, genuine, raggedy tennis ball catch. Touché, twisted and aggravating universe, I'm still thankful for my good day(s).
Albeit, I may or may not be posted up on my sun-stained couch with this fluffy friend at my feet, but I don't feel slighted one bit. I'm divulging the secrets that many of you may very well have been dying to unveil for sometime now, and I'm doing it willingly. (Bonus secret: I'm a reality television junkie in light of my education - #sorryimnotsorry).
If I can hashtag a millennial phrase and kiss the lips of a 3 year old god-dog without dangling my head in shame, my self-worth has not floundered yet. Stay with me, blog world, I plan to continuously exploit the uninteresting.