Melanie, the littlest gentle human that I know, has a word for her interactions with me. She calls it, “getting puppyfied.”
I guess that’s a good word for it. Yesterday, mom and dad were gone all afternoon, leaving me alone in the house with those two purry-things. But when they got home I heard mom ask dad, “Are you prepared to get puppyfied?”
Dad replied, “Sure, bring him on” and there I was, greeting them at the door, jumping and licking and wiggling and — well, being as excited as a puppy can be!
He was puppyfied.
Her first words were, “Puppy breath …” Well, of course, what would you expect? I am a puppy, and a clever one at that. I’m not a frog, or it would have been froggy breath. It wasn’t horse breath, or lizard breath, or (shudder) purry-thing breath.
No, I am a puppy. And I have wonderful, delicious, aromatic puppy breath.
I was glad to see them after being alone all afternoon. Can you blame me for being so excited when they got home? I was a happy dog, just lying in his lap, with my fish, and wondering …
…wondering what fish breath smells like?