One Week In

... well, almost two. Phyllis and I are settling into a rhythm. Mostly her chewing on things, me chasing after her to stop. But, all in all, Phyllis and I are settling in well.

Photos by Mark Regester. Check him out. He's amazing.

Phyllis Lindstrom

Phyllis says, "hello." 

I finally did it, after years of saying that I would. I got a dog. I'd been thinking about it for a while and when a friend of a friend said she was having Boston Terrier puppies, I jumped at the chance, particularly after attempting to go through a rescue failed. I tried, I really did. The entire process became too frustrating and I had to walk away, which is just as well because here's Phyllis. And she's great. 

She's nine weeks old, fits in the palm of my hand, and howls like a tornado siren when in her kennel. I've purchased gift certificates for ice cream for all my neighbors in appreciation of their patience. She's funny and smart and spends most of the day by my side. As I write this, she's sleeping on my toe. Thankfully, she's not biting my toe. She has a habit. 

We're figuring out how we live together and I think it's going to be good as long as I can keep the floors clean enough and get her outside fast enough to save my poor rugs. She does love to pee on the rugs. 

She's a keeper.