Get your mind out of the gutter, you.
I have a good friend who doesn't own dogs. He doesn't dislike dogs, he just likes cats better. That's fine. But sometimes, he cracks me up by saying, upon entering my house, that he's not used to the smell of dogs anymore, and he kind of wrinkles his nose. Now, my dogs have regular baths. Neither of them are
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My little Chihuahua loves to be held (unfortunately often when I'm trying to type), so I spend a lot of time with him in one arm or another--or tucked into my jacket or bathrobe like a doggy chest-burster. Every once and awhile, I'm compelled to bury my nose in the fur between his shoulders and breathe in deeply. It's such a comforting scent that I can't seem to get enough.
Re the quiet reminder of a quiet little life, have you ever heard Edie Brickell's "Ghost of a Dog"? (http://tinyurl.com/7wegyq)
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--Lester Smith
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I always used to write with a rat on my shoulder. I don't currently have any rats, but I miss having a sweet little ball of warm fur nestled up against my neck as I sit at my computer.
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