Boyboy Had a Bone

It's been a little over a week since John and I got Noah but we decided to change his name to Boyboy. Animal Care Services said that his name was Noah but we'd call him over and he seemed to get confused. So we'd say "Come here, Noah" and he'd start to walk over and then stop since he understands the word "no". At first we couldn't decide what to name him so we'd say "Come here, boy," or "Good boy," and eventually we just capitalized it.

Anyway, I absolutely love him and am convinced he is the smartest dog to ever walk on four legs.

I walk him every day either at the small park by our house or the trails that connect downtown to the Missions. On the weekends, John and I walk him together. I feel a lot healthier even though I don't usually run and break a sweat with him. I also feel more accomplished because I wake up early to ensure that we don't end up walking in the glaringly hot noon-day sun.

But when we do, it's okay because he loves snow cones. 

I've already learned so much about myself now that I am a dog person.

For instance when walking Boyboy on his leash it is not important that I'm completely out of shape or that I have the knees of an 80 year old -- I will run so that he can still run, even faster in front of me. His waggy tail and swaying butt make my heart attack worth his smiley, drooling, happy face.

I also bought him the cutest little armadillo stuffed animal. I had no idea that they even made stuffed animals for dogs but once I saw it, I had to have it...I mean I had to get it for him. He loves it. John will throw it and he'll chase after it and then try to tear the poor little armadillo's legs off. It's the sweetest.

I've always had to deal with my hair coming out in the shower, when I make a pony tail, when I take my pony tail down, when I brush my hair...basically anytime I mess with it but it's totally weird having to get used to fluffy, white, fur balls all over the place that are not my own. Boyboy loves his belly rubbed and all you need is one pass over it to see your hand covered in his long white fur. His fur gets stuck in our grass and makes little furball tumble weeds that float across the driveway when a wind blows.



I've also become very irrationally protective of him. If, at the park or down the street, another dog barks at him or tries to nip him I get all crazy-eyes and hate stare them down as if they understand what I'm doing. Boyboy just keeps on walking and doesn't even give them the time of day. He's so much more mature than I am.

So basically he's the best dog ever! I'm so glad that we found him at the shelter and decided to take him home with us.