Coming to terms with a bed-eating dog

“Cool dog,” said the college student. I was walking my beast, Lily, down the street. I thought I misheard him. Because what he said didn’t quite connect. I’ve had this animal for two years now — exactly two years — and I’m still not used to the compliments or comments I get as we walk. Usually they fall into one of two categories: Her looks, or her unusual looks. No kidding, people have actually said, “Damn, that is a GOR-GEOUS dog!” “This thing!” my family will say pointing at the animal in question. She has a stump — no tail. Her markings are unique at best. As if pre-schoolers had a couple mocha lattes and went to town during painting time. It appears that someone spilled white paint down her snout and off the side of her nose.

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