Another lovely day here in Escondido. I finally figured out how to wrestle the remote away from the cat at night so I can turn on the Olympics. She keeps insisting on watching Bachelor Pad at night once the people leave and I’m all, like, you know the Olympics are only every two years, right? and she’s all, I don’t care, I want to know what happens with Blakely and then I said “give me the remote” and she said “make me” and so I had the dachshund distract her with a shiny ball and I grabbed it.
I love the Olympics. I love watching the runners, the determination on their faces. They have a goal. So do I.
I know Lolo Jones has been having a rough go of things but I adore her so much. She’s beautiful, just like me. She has waited a long time for a chance at redemption, like me. And she never, ever gives up. Just. like. me.
I worked at the adoptions area this morning. I wish I could speak human because I think they all just have this idea that I work here or something, and not that I’m actually you know, one of the dogs looking for a home. I mean, I don’t blame them. How could someone as amazing as me not already be snapped up, sitting here watching other dogs come in, and leave a day or a week or a month later? But if I spoke human I could tell them:
I know it’s hard to believe- I can’t believe it either- but I’m still waiting for a home. Seriously. I know, crazy. With these little white socks and this happy face? Don’t worry, I’ll wait here while you fill out the forms.
But I can’t speak, so I’ll just say it with my eyes and eventually the right person who understands dog-eye-speak will look at me and get it. Maybe they will be a Lolo Jones fan. Maybe they had a pit bull and know how great we are. I hope they will have a never emptying box of Milk Bones. Maybe they will have a kid who is looking for someone to play frisbee with.
I’d love to play frisbee at dog beach.
Till then, I will sit at the adoptions center and smile, and wait.