So... hey. Haven't blogged in a while. I've got a mountain of reading I'm working on, but wanted to take a break to let anyone who reads this know that I have exciting news.

No, I'm not getting married. Don't worry. I got a dog.

Her name is Maggie. I got her from the animal shelter down off New Bern Ave. She's a Chow mix. They don't say what she's mixed with. Basically she still has the bearish/lion-ish look of a Chow, but without the flab wrinkles. She's medium-sized... 50 lbs or so. Here's a picture of her face I took with Photo Booth:



Now, I've never had a dog ALL to myself before. I had a couple growing up, one of which was technically "my" dog, but I never had to bear the ENTIRE responsibility of either of them... and thus never truly experienced dog ownership.

For me, raising a pet is like raising a child. It's all about what you expose them to. And I, for some reason, have apparently decided to convince Maggie that all pop music ever written has been about her. Here's the most recent example sung to her:

"Why do you keep me hangin' on a string?
Maggie, for you, I'd do anything,
So make up your mind and decide is this real what you feel..."

She seems to appreciate these songs, and got in an insane excitement-mode the other day when Richard busted out some Pixies for her, pointing out, in screamed punk-rock fashion, that she is "un chien Andalusia."

The aforementioned insane-excitement mode is one of the coolest things I've ever seen, by the way. She jumps and does a midair 360, play-bows to me, and quickly does the 360 again. Actually, that's one manifestation of the excitement -- the other is her taking a few quick laps around my coffee table.

Known ways to make her do this currently include slapping on the floor on either side of her body Donkey-Kong style, singing some of the pop music that has been written about her, crouching down in a wrestling pose, and picking up her leash.

More as it develops. Back to the books.