fAngus and Ragnar · Minerva · Myths and Monsters

My Name is Minerva. This House is Mine.

A couple of days ago, I was hanging out with my brothers and sisters and some other dogs, when my super favorite human, Angie, introduced me to an obnoxiously HUGE dog and some weird tall lady. I was pretty nervous: I’ve only been alive for 11 weeks, and that dog was big and scary looking, but he just sniffed me and wandered away. So I snuggled with Angie and carefully sniffed the weird lady’s toes for a while. Eventually they left and life was normal for a couple of days.

But the weird lady came back, and I guess she’s ok.

I thought she’d be fun to play with so I showed her all my super cool toys and growled and barked and tried to eat a straw out of the garbage. She snuggled a little, which was ok. She didn’t fuss about my fur, which is finally growing back after lots of baths and medicine and love from Angie and her people. My litter mates were all found when we were 6 weeks old, you see, and we’d had a bit of a hard start. None of us had ever been clean: we all had pee burns on our ears, bellies, tails, and legs. But since we were rescued we got all sorts of love and attention and it’s been AWESOME. I was all set to show the weird tall lady around and introduce her to the rest of the crew, when Angie threw a blanket I liked into this box. I went in to check it out, and she SHUT THE DOOR!

Betrayal is real, people.

That tall lady picked up the box and stuck me into the same sort of moving thing that brought me up from my birthplace, someplace hot called “Texas”. This was a much shorter ride, but I howled and cried and protested the whole way, because it’s scary and sad to leave all my pack behind with some stranger who just dupes you into a box and drives away. I was not thrilled. Luckily for her, my attention span is short. She talked to me all the way to a place she called “home”. I was worried about what that meant. I’ve only known a couple of places to live in: one was terrible, one was pretty good. What if I didn’t have any pack there, or it was dirty, or I wouldn’t get enough to eat, or any attention?

I cried a lot. I’m not sorry.

Eventually though, we stopped, and she carried me into a new place, and opened the box door. And the big black dog was there! And something else, some black furry thing with yellow eyes. He hissed at me and ran before I could even get a good sniff (I haven’t seen him since, but the lady calls him Angus and says he’ll come around eventually). And then we went to a place called “the yard.”

You guys. THE YARD. So. Many. Sniffs. And there’s this really weird green stuff I can pee in. And the lady put me on the swinging net with her for a nap one day in the sun: that was nice. I get to chase the big crabby dog (he doesn’t love when I jump all over him in the house: he growls but I just bark back because OBVIOUSLY I’m the head bitch in this household), because when we’re outside he’ll play chase and be fun. He’ll learn who’s boss eventually, right?

That’s me. I’m the boss. In case I wasn’t clear with all my growling and howling before.

There are things to sniff, treats, snuggles…this is pretty awesome even though I miss my old pack. I cry at night until I fall asleep, and when I have to be crated during naptime during the day (whatever this “crate training” is she keeps talking about is just garbage, and I’m still trying to get out of it).

I’m not sure why she keeps trying to get me to poop outside when there’s all this soft carpet to go on.

When I get scared outside I hide behind her, so I suppose I’ve decided she’s my human.

Clearly she needs help bossing around the boys in this house.

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