That D@MN Dog

I have a dog. His name is Fez. He's a four year old Australian Terrier mix that I've had for about eight months. I got him from this chick that works in my building. She was giving him away because her four year old daughter was too rough with him and he'd snapped at her a couple of times.

Fez and I have an interesting relationship. From the time that I walk in the door, he's on my heels. If I'm in the kitchen cooking, he's sitting right in the entryway. If I'm relaxing on the couch watching television, he's lying under the coffee table. When I go into my office to do some work, he plops down dangerously close to the wheels of my chair. (I have to remember he's there to keep from rolling over him.) When I get in the bed, he curls up in a ball at the foot of it - on the floor, of course. In the mornings, when I'm in the bathroom getting dressed for work, he posts up right at the bathroom door. (I guess he's trying to make sure that I look okay before I leave.)

His clinginess tends to be aggravating. But he can't help it. One of the best things about Fez. He doesn't bark, EVER, well HARDLY ever. I can't stand dogs that are always yapping. On occasion, his ears will pick up the sound of footsteps approaching my door and he will stand at attention, emit a growl and perhaps a bark or two, but for the most part, he remains pretty silent. Another thing that I like about him, he doesn't shed excessively. i HATE cleaning animal hair.

I learned have learned something from sharing living space with Fez. I am NOT an animal lover. Sure, he and I peacefully co-exist. On occasion, he makes me laugh. More often, he makes me mad. But this past Saturday night, when he went MIA for a couple of hours, Wise suggested that we search the neighborhood looking for him. Because I wasn't feeling all panicky and alarmed that he was gone, I declined.

Fez knew the way home, besides, it was cold outside.