He loves to cuddle, gives good kisses, gets along with all of my friends.
He makes me laugh, knows how to have a good time, and loves it when I spoil him rotten.
Too bad he also makes me cry (when he bites, hard), lives with another woman (and man), and has godawful breath. But what else can you expect, really.
He thinks he's cute enough to make up for all that, and he might be right.
His aunt Tanin and I decided recently that he would be a great tool for picking up guys in the park. But he's not allowed to walk on the city streets yet (something about ucky parasites and baby dogs) so we had to tote him along in a bag to Central Park.
And then to the Met.
Where we successfully managed to pick up every middle-aged woman in the city. Hmmmm, we're going to have to work on his fetching skills.
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