Well, Gant, it’s your birthday today. You are SIX years old. Thank god it’s your birthday, because otherwise I wouldn’t know what day it is. Taken in 2014.…
It’s another day. My alarm blares in my ear, like clockwork, every morning at 8:30 am. I swipe it away and put my arm around my dog, who inevitably licks my face, jumps from the bed and makes my husband take him out, as I pretend I am still asleep.
Hello there. I’m Gant. You know that already. Anyway, my mom decided I should “pull my weight around here” and “write for her blog”. Doesn’t she know I have paws? I can’t write! I can lick them, but can’t type for anything.
When you get a puppy, it’s like a new beginning. The chance to mold their personalities, train them how you want them to behave, and establish them as…