I brought a dragon, AKA dog, AKA Flynn, back from Iowa over Thanksgiving.
I’ve wanted a dog for years, and the opportunity finally came knocking for me to get an already trained 1.5-year-old mix breed who takes up the vast majority of my bed. So I don’t let him on the bed.
Lucky for me, Flynn already knows all about house and crate training, which has made the transition so far ridiculously easy.
He and the Cat have gotten along quite well so far, with the exception of when Flynn accidently smacks him in the face with his tail.
Having a dog brings new dimension to life. Today after work, all I wanted to do was put on my pajamas and watch a stream of movies. Instead, Flynn and I went for a long, leisurely walk, met a nice family (Flynn was a perfect gentleman when he met the two rather small, squeaky girls), breathed fresh air, watched the sunset and got some exercise.
Oh, right, the dragon thing: Flynn likes to hoard his toys, especially when he sleeps. He doesn’t like if they are too far away from him.
So there’s a dragon in my apartment, and I’m planning on keeping him. Unless he starts breathing fire. Then he might have to go. Or I’ll just need to move into a castle that won’t burn down.