This is my pretty dog. I know he doesn’t look much prettier than an ugly dog, but he is. He has become really disproportionately shaped after growing into his body. He a very pretty boi. Yis you are, Duke! Dukie Pookie! Dukie Bear and a half! DUKIE BEAR AND THREE QUARTERS! (You don’t understand that. That’s an inside joke between us and only us.)

So anyway, Duke turns 3 sometime in December. I know this is Cheese City, but there’s not a day that goes by that I’m not totally aware of how lucky I am that this pup is around (even though he lives a California life while I am stuck here in Tennessee). Sometimes it breaks me into a million little pieces to see how happy he is when I come home. And how happy he is, in general. He didn't used to be this happy. He had a very bad life before he met me. We rescued him after Mickey died (at age 5... I can't even talk about it because I STILL CRY). He had something like 7 homes before us. People just kept getting rid of him, and I have no idea why. He is the snuggliest prettiest boy. I just really hope his dog-sized brain comprehends how much he means to me.

GET IT, DOG? SOMETIMES I CRY OVER YOUR DEATH AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN DEAD YET. THAT’S HOW MUCH YOU AFFECT ME.



These last two pictures are from Christmas last year. LOOK AT THAT HANDSOME BOY. LOOK AT HIS CHRISTMAS TINSEL. WHY? BECAUSE DUKE ROLLS WITH AUTHENTICITY. CHRISTMAS BEAUTY BOY. I'M GOING TO EAT YOUR BIG NOSE AND THEN SPIT IT OUT SO I CAN EAT IT AGAIN.