Zsa Zsa Gabor...I get you.
Leona Helmsley...I understand completely, girlfriend.
Thanks to the arrival of a 10 week old English bulldog puppy, I now understand why rich old ladies carry around tiny dogs. Because (at least with my puppy) they're awesome and they can.
Am I completely glossing over the fact that when Reuben is in his spazzy, puppy play mode he's like a mini Tiger shark on a blood-soaked rampage of teeth and fur? Yes. Or when I was changing the bed sheets and he ran over and pissed on the comforter? Yes. Or the fact that his tiny bladder has him getting up every 2-3 hours to go out in the middle of the night? Uh huh. Or when I was watching him like a hawk, blinked my eyes and he was gone, but a tootsie roll was deposited on my carpet right in front of me? Youbetcha.
Despite all those things, our home now has the funniest, most personality-packed creature to date, even counting those Sea Monkeys I ordered from a comic book (That's saying a lot, because I'm such a sucker for brine shrimp!). I'm trying my best not to post a million images of him, but I'm failing miserably and don't even care. I have unabashedly set up an Instagram account, @Reubenthebulldog, just to have a place to put some of these pics. Somehow, I'm able to delude myself that because it's my dog, it's different. No WAY I've become one of those douchebags. Wait...maybe I have, but... DID YOU SEE WHAT HE JUST DID? He was playing and rolled off the mat and flipped over. How cute is that?
Anyway, he's been a reasonably good model so far and I need to get these shots now while he's cute and doesn't have that 3 inch underbite which I'm sure is coming. Bear with me people as I pass through this really adorable phase.