Saint B

 I love this photo of B. With the coverlet around him it looks like he has a halo or an aura, or sort of like a painting of one of the saints. I showed this to a friend who's gotten to know him, and she's going to print a copy. She has a nice rig. Her printer isn't bad either, ark ark ark. 

 She commented on how photogenic he is. Lots of people have said that. He is a looker. It really is mind-blowing to think what a chick magnet he'd be if I were 40 years younger. 

 My friend who lives in Wilsonville where I was staying and has also gotten to know him calls him "Maybelline dog" because of his natural eyeliner. In his case it's guyliner.

 He makes friends easily. When we go to the vet he's anxious like the other dogs but he's so friendly that he goes around the waiting room and greets everybody. They love him and say he's one of their best patients. They said he looks happy. That's awesome.

 People who get to know him know that he's a special animal. Several people have completely fallen in love with him. They all think he has something extra going on, and some have called it angelic. 

 I agree. I could be wrong but I think God sent him to me to show His love for me. He's the only dog I've ever gotten from a breeder. It was about a 40-minute drive each way. I called to tell them I was on the way. They said that they had two male puppies left. 

 I didn't want to have to choose and I'd have wanted to get both of them, but by the time I got there someone had gotten the other one. I think he was meant to be my dog, no matter who may or may not have had a hand in it. 

 He was eight weeks old and cute as a button. I was the first human he'd ever seen besides the couple who raised him, and when he saw me he hid. He was small enough to hide behind a 10" throw pillow. I just sat down and waited for him to come out. A minute or two later he came out and just sat there looking at me like "We're cool." "You're coming with me" I said. As Hardy would say, "It was meeyent to be." 

These pics are from his first night with me. When I saw him sitting there with that look on his face I knew immediately knew he had Buddha Nature. Within an hour he'd become master of all he could survey. 

 He was getting sleepy by 9:00 so I went to bed early. At around 3am we were both awakened by a truly rank and pungent aroma that was powerful enough to wake us both up. We both farted in our sleep at the same time. It was pretty rugged. 

 I had some unusually heinous gas, and while puppy breath is one of the greatest aromas on the planet, puppy farts are a different story. The combination of the two farts was like chemical warfare or something. I woke up with a stankface and he woke up sneezing. That was funny. We bonded over poots.

 For the record his registered name is Doctor Octafer's Herbert Sherbert. His mother's name is Delilah and his father's name is Digger. He has a million nicknames. With the exception of nicknames like "Asswipe" and such, nicknames are terms of endearment. 

 He wags his tail so much that if I could harness that energy I could go off the grid. He's a goodwill ambassador. If he wasn't such a hellion and a life-support system for a nose, I might not even think he's a dog.

 He's a sweetheart, and that's an angelic quality. I don't suppose I can nominate him for sainthood but I can add another nickname to the list- Saint Bertram. He's a goodun. Bless his heart.