Last Friday I confessed to you that I like dudes, remember? Well this Friday I have the following to tell you: My new foster brother is called The Dude. And I like him.
Here’s how it went down.
On the first morning, we started off like this:
And then that afternoon, we were like this:
And then I blinked and it was morning again and I woke up like this:
Now. A less gentle-dog-ly fellow might be peeved to wake up to a noseful of his brand new foster brother’s feet, but not I. Because first, as I mentioned last week, I promised my mama that I would love my new brother. And second, I secretly love the smell of dog feets (my mom loves it too so I guess it runs in the family).
Here’s the thing about the Dude. He and I are really, really good-looking together. He doesn’t have the beautiful brindle furs that I have, but otherwise, we go together so nicely. I am white with browns; he is brown with whites. Observe:
He is my perfect accessory, right? And really, there’s more to it than just
how much he adores me the colors of his furs. He’s a pretty cool Dude. For one, he is majorly into snuggling, as am I. For two, he doesn’t try to play with me, which I appreciate (being the distinguished older gentleman that I am). And for three, well — I hate to reveal myself to be a big softie, but — I know he’s had a hard life and like mama says, he just needs a soft spot to land for a while. I don’t really remember what that’s like, but mama says I was in his shoes about 8 years ago (which is so silly because I don’t ever wear shoes). It only took me a day to give the Dude my full stamp of approval (the fastest of any of our fosters yet), and last night I told him a Very Sweet Thing. I said: Little Dude, I’ll be your soft spot to land on for as long as you need.