With me, Prada gets excited, spins, hops along for a while, then cuddles up to me and goes to sleep. We watch Dr. Who or nap or read for hours like that. Or we go for a well-mannered walk.
|That's my girl. Also, my Supergirl t-shirt.|
With The Squeeze, Prada gets excited, spins, hops along for a while, charges onto the couch, pounces on The Squeeze's stomach, tries to lick his face, spins around, maybe falls over, wags her tail in his face, and then repeats eight or forty times.
|My dog is the same size as The Squeeze's shoe.|
Now, Prada is about two and a half years old--a teenager, you might say. Writing for teenaged girls as I do, I have learned some things about them. Which means that there is another possibility besides her being mentally unbalanced.
I think that maybe, just maybe, my dog is in love with my boyfriend.
(True: sometimes turtles fall in love with shoes, or beetles fall in love with beer bottles. Which just goes to show that turtles and beetles just know what makes life good.)