The puppy was my heart-song in fur, those baby browns that let himself right into my soul and made himself at home.
When my puppy is sick, when he wakes me up every few hours at night because he needs to visit the garden and all I want is sleep, I know it's time to make myself do the right thing. Getting out of the warm duvet into the cold night air, taking him downstairs and waiting for him to come back, is the harder thing to do, but I respect myself more for doing it because I'm doing what good people do, I'm building myself into a better version of me.
A puppy born in a fur tuxedo looked at Sam as if he wore a top hat fashioned from velvety mischief.
My puppy is like "Groot," but instead of saying, "I am Groot," he only says "woof." Yet in each expression of his limited vocabulary there is a different emotion, a new thing said. It is everything from "Come play with me," to "Hey, I want some of your dinner!" And so I do my best to be a good interpreter for my little guardian of the couch.
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