More Love on Remy, The Spoiled Pup

Okay, it's super true. I've spoiled my dog. It's like she's not even a dog anymore. Which is when you know you've raised them right - they become family.


I pretty much let her do whatever she wants. And she pretty much does whatever I ask of her. She's perfectly happy lying on the floor. Except I usually call her up onto something softer. A pillow. The couch. My bed. She's just too cute to have to sleep on the floor. I can't help it. Plus, if perchance I am also on the couch or bed, she will cuddle. And not just allow me to come to her, but will actually lay on top of me and be perfectly content there. It makes me remarkably happy, even if she is "just a dog".



And while she does some "bad" things... like run away from my friend who is playing fetch with her outside... she listens to me. She usually comes when called, even outside off leash (there are a few exceptions to this rule, because I, in no way, can compete with birds or that interesting spot with the intriguing smell). She's just and overall good dog. I already fear 10 years from now when I outlive her. She really is my best friend. Screw diamonds. They don't keep you warm at night. I'd rather a dog than an engagement ring. Puppies will bring more happiness than a diamond ever could. How come boys got dogs and women got diamonds? What a crock.



I'm glad that Remy lets me live in her world. I'm sure that she really is queen of this castle and only "listens" to me because she kinda likes me. I suppose it's really more of her taking my suggestions.


Plus, I am her one woman paparazzo. I'm glad she forgives me for that, too.


End Blog.