Bye-bye, Sandy

I adopted Sandy out to an awesome home today. I knew she would go fast, and to a good home... but I didn't know she'd be gone in four days to the best home I could possibly imagine. Damn. I miss her already.

She went to a couple with an eighteen-month-old daughter. She'll have dog and cat friends and a whole yard to herself. To think that she was dumped on a county road by some asshole early on in life, then lived in a shelter for more than a year... and now she's living it up with a great family who loves her to pieces - that's amazing to me. So, in short: fuck yeah.

We'll miss you, Sandy girl.

Why, yes. That is my braless tit. 

I wish I didn't live in this small apartment. It's kind of stressful to have three dogs at once, especially since I'll be starting a new job on Tuesday. Did I mention that? I found a job. This is the part where I high-five myself. Which is different from clapping. Way different.

I'm going to sleep now. Good night.

I'm a crazy dog lady

A week ago, I got an e-mail from Animal Rescue of the Rockies saying they needed fosters for dogs coming in from Texas. And without asking Morris, I volunteered.

Thus, Sandy came into our lives.

And so did her fleas. But that's alright, Sandy. You know we love you. Especially Oliver, who can be seen lurking in the following pictures.

She had been in the San Antonio shelter since December 24th, 2010, and was understandably terrified when she got here. But since then, she's come out of her shell - and I'm pretty sure she's already got a home lined up for her. Yay! She might be adopted on Sunday. We'll see.

Here's today's song. Haven't been able to get it out of my head for three days.

Let's talk about the weather

Holy fuck, it is nice outside.

I can't believe it got as high as 84° in some parts of the country today; maybe that's because just a few weeks ago, we had snow enough to bury Oliver. Of course, he's only a few inches tall... but still.

I'm not very good at taking pictures, especially since the only camera I have is on my phone. Anyway - here you go, pretend reader.

I may or may not be a crazy dog lady. Anyway, here's today's Song of the Post. Expect lots more CocoRosie in the future. :D

So, what do you do for fun?

I've always hated this question, because I can't just say what I actually do for fun. People who ask me this expect a normal answer, like "skiing," or "flying kites," or "sewing and knitting," or "shooting up heroin." But I don't like any of these things.

Until recently, an honest answer would have been, "I like to waste my entire day on the Internet." I still have an Internet addiction, but it doesn't give me pleasure anymore. I just get on the Internet because it's what I'm used to doing. And that disgusts me.

Why can't I go outside, clean, do dishes, play with my dogs, or hang out with friends instead? Well, I'll just get to the end of this Pinterest page, and then I'll get off and do the dishes. If procrastination was a disease, mine might be fatal.

But, don't worry - I haven't died yet. A couple weeks ago, I got tired of my dogs staring at me all the time. I could tell they were bored with just the mediocre walks I was giving them.

I hate you. I'm staying in bed for the rest of my life.

So, although it was cold outside, I put their leashes on and we went to the dog park. For the first time ever.
I made a promise to myself and my dogs that we would go every other day for the entire day, but now we go every day. It's kind of sad, really... I have a dog park addiction. I go to dog parks for fun.

I stopped caring about photo quality after creek water was splashed into my mouth.

It's not like it's a bad thing. We don't have a car, so we walk two miles just getting there and back. And it is GLORIOUS. I've only been doing this for a few weeks, and already I've made friends. It's so backwards, making friends there: you learn their dog's name first, and then you learn the owner's name. If you're lucky enough, that is.
Plus, my dogs love it. Almost as much as I do.

This is more of a warning than anything, dear pretend reader. You'll be seeing me talk about dog parks more than any normal person ever should... that's what you get for asking me what I do for fun.

Since you asked so nicely

I'd like to give you, dear pretend reader, a glimpse of who I am; of what my life is like. This isn't everything; don't worry, though. I'll tell you everything piece by piece.

My name is Marina. I'm eighteen years old and I live on my own with my boyfriend, Morris, who is 22 years old.

We have two children: Oliver and Kato.

Oliver

Oliver is our first dog. We got him at a pet store (yeah, yeah, I'm an awful person) when he was just 12 weeks old. He was very sick when we first got him - every five minutes, day and night, he would sputter and hack like he was throwing up. But really, he was just coughing. After taking him to the vet and giving him herbal supplements, he got better, and now he's a happy, energetic 11-month-old chiweenie puppy.

His first snow

Kato came into our lives when I applied to foster him through Animal Rescue of the Rockies. We didn't know much about him - just that he was 2 - 4 years old, a German shepherd/husky/heeler mix, and that he was going to die if we didn't step in and save him. I knew, from the moment I saw his picture, that he wouldn't be just a foster. I was going to adopt this dog.

The picture and the face I fell in love with

It's not that we needed another dog - but fostering was free, so I convinced Morris that we should give it a try. A few days and a long drive later, Kato came home.

Kato's first night home

From the moment I met Kato, I bonded with him. He wasn't potty trained, didn't know any tricks, marked everything in my apartment, and didn't walk well on a leash. He didn't understand the concept of playtime, and the fact that food was always readily available for him seemed to confuse him... but Kato had the sweetest, most submissive personality of any dog I've ever met. And Oliver liked him, too!

So, after being laid off (gotta do SOMETHING with all that time), I trained Kato to be the gentleman I knew he could be. We paid his adoption fee on March 2nd. Now he and Oliver are best friends, and we're a big, happy family. 

And we lived happily ever after. Right?

Wrong. But I'll explain that later. 

Until next time, dear pretend reader.

All I hear is an echo.

But, that's okay. This isn't like middle school, when my journals were passed around the lunch table for all to judge.

I am just like every other regular blogger out there. Knowing no one will read this, but hoping someone might. And even if they did, what would they gain from it? Busy people like yourself don't need to know 1,000 useless facts about some teenage girl in Colorado named Marina. Busy people like you don't care. Your brain is full of things like "where did I put the coupon for $1 off fake plants at Hobby Lobby?" and "I need to pick the kids up from soccer practice early on Monday." Right? You don't need to add to that pile in your head.

Maybe I'm starting this blog because I want to be exactly like you. Or maybe, it's because I'd rather not be anything like you. To be honest, I'm not sure yet. At all. That's why I'm starting this. Because I don't know.

So, hello. I'm Marina. Nice to meet you. Please enjoy the following flattering image.

I know. You're impressed.

There will be more to come. I promise, pretend reader. I won't leave you hanging.