I drew this yesterday after I took Oliver for a walk. I like taking him - scratch that - I like the thought of taking Oliver for a walk.
I imagine us strutting down the pathway and him curiously observing the ducks in the stream as a gentle breeze causes my hair to dance. Then I throw my head back and chuckle to myself. Birds overhead whistle a sanguine rendition of "You Make My Dreams" by Hall & Oates. Life is delightful.
But instead, I came home and made a list of all the annoying crap he does that makes these walks such chore for me. Among them, is the fact that he's got this hidden strength that defies physics and all other reason. He's an 11 pound Paris Hilton purse dog, for crying out loud. But I spend a good part of my time dragging and tugging because he wants to smell every living organism on this planet. And yet, I love him so much. I don't know why.
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