My dog is weird

The scene: my kitchen. I was rushing around trying to make dinner for my family when I gracelessly dropped multiple stalks of uncooked broccoli onto the floor. I hastily picked them up (five second rule!) and proceeded to get said broccoli into the steamer. Minutes later, I entered the family room and was met with this:

Busted…with broccoli?

She’s next-level excited about a walk in the woods – look at that smile! – but put her harness on for a stroll around the neighborhood? Yeah, not so much.

She’s a phenomenal travel companion but an incurable bed hog. She’ll leap gamely into a kayak or onto a paddleboard, but the one time I brought her on a bike ride she clawed her way out of the trailer.

She knows EXACTLY when it’s time to go to my parents’ house, nearly tripping me in her rush to get out the door. But when it’s bedtime she suddenly doesn’t understand what I’m asking.

Nearly five years in, I’m still noticing new quirks. I can hold her right paw, but not her left. There are new things that delight her, and things that make her flinch like a horror movie jump-scare. Today it was broccoli. What will it be tomorrow? I can’t wait to find out.

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