Showing You Pictures of My Dog to Help You Procrastinate from Writing
Updated: Feb 25
Let me guess. You're here because you don't feel like writing. Or you don't know what to write. Don't worry, we've all been there. I got you. You really should get back to writing at some point, but you've already been on the internet for half an hour now, so I might as well help you procrastinate a little longer.
This is my Sasha.
My brother and I rescued her from the shelter this past August when she was a wee little four-month-old (well, she was never quite little, but she was sure smaller forty pounds ago). She's now ten--almost eleven--months old and weighs about eighty pounds. Her dad is an Alaskan Malamute and her mama is an Akita. We met both her parents, along with her two sisters and one brother at the shelter, but there was something special about Sasha. With her ears pinned back and her tongue everywhere--our hands, our faces--she seemed to like us best. Right away, we scribbled her name at the top of our list. A few days later, she was ours.
Sasha and I on her first day home.
Sasha and my brother. They're growing at about the same rate.
I'd be lying if I told you that raising a dog (my first dog, no less) was easy. I went into it knowing that both Akitas and Alaskan Malamutes are not good dogs for first-time dog owners. Sasha is intelligent and has taken to training very well for a puppy, but she has these spasms of independence. She likes picking up stuff around the house--like socks or mittens--and running around the house with it because she knows she's not supposed to have them. She'll also make sure I see her misbehaving so that I'll chase her. She loves playing keep-away. It's both hilarious and infuriating.
Sasha is a huge fan of the Buffalo Bills.
It's hard not to forgive her when she hangs her head, licks my hand, and paws at my lap. It's her way of saying sorry (even though she'll probably just do it again seconds after I leave the room).
Despite her independent spirit, I really do cherish our walks together (except when she's tugging me around the icy sidewalk like a maniac because she's seen another dog). She needs at least two hours of exercise every day, so I'll usually walk her every morning and one or two times later in the day, depending on my brother's schedule (he's the dog dad).
It's the perfect time to listen to an audiobook and revel in God's sunrises and sunsets. Other times, it's nice hooking her to the leash out back and watching her play in the snow while I cozy up with a book and cup of coffee.
When she's not taking in the glorious sight around her, Sasha is sticking her nose in the snow, digging holes in the backyard, or jumping up to catch the snowflakes on her tongue.
Sasha and her dad
Fun fact #1: Sasha and I have the same-sized head.
Fun Fact #2: Sasha loves it when I force her to cuddle.
Sasha, her dad, and her uncles. She has a special fondness for boy humans, which is RUDE.
At least she keeps me company while I work on my novel!
Tired puppy. She looks like she just got in trouble for something. We call her Judy when she's misbehaving. It's like her alter ego.
My favorite picture of Sasha. She seems to enjoy her new home.
Alright, that's enough of that. Now get back to writing.