I love pets (except for Moon, the diabolical cat I was forced to live with for several months, oh and I have a tense relationship with my brother's cat Neva, but anyway) and I especially love dogs. I grew up with labs (don’t worry, I wont force you to again suffer through that re-run of my childhood animal repertoire) but have never been a huge fan of small dogs.
That is, until I met Sawyer. Before the other Annie became the roommate #2, she lived down the street from us with her too-cute-for words teacup chihuahua. Yes, teacup. Because if you thought a chihuahua couldn’t get any smaller, you were wrong. When she first got Sawyer he was so mini he could fit in your hand. Then he returned to Annie’s family in New York all summer. Oh and her parents got her another teacup chihuahua, Finn (ain't that precious?). Yes, that’s two very small dogs. And those two very small dogs are now LA residents, after a lovely summer in Bedford. And they live with us. And it's heaven and puppies and unicorns and Lisa Frank trapper keepers all the time.
I never in a million years ever thought it possible that I might love a small dog. Oh but I do. These are the most precious and most darling little doggies. Despite the fact they love to shit all over our living room floor—I love them! And their shit is so small!
Here’s Sawyer attempting to eat some KFC (Ignore the KFC. Okay, fine don’t ignore it—I was hungover and they were eating fried chicken on Stomp the Yard. What? Yes, I watched Stomp the Yard Sunday morning. Didn’t I say I was hungover? Try to keep up, will you? It was a surprisingly good movie. And the chicken was unsurprisingly delicious. KFC Mac n’Cheese not so much.) He’s gotten much bigger than his teeny tiny mini puppy days but still just as precious as ever.
Oh, there is one unfortunate side effect of having two small dogs—the inability to not use baby talk to speak to them. I caught myself telling Finn she was a good “puppie wuppie” the other day. And then I vomited in my mouth a little bit.