I have been dog-sitting the last few days. He’s a… something. I don’t even know what breed. A mix of some terrier and a Maltese, I think. His name is Riley. He is 12 years old. He is the quietest thing ever. We hit it off straight away.
After greeting him with a pat and a tummy scratch, I let him follow me into the house and I sat down in front of the television. Without a noise he wandered dutifully over to the sofa and curled up between my feet on the floor. He has not been interested in anybody else since. He has not wanted to leave my side. He is asleep under my chair as I write this now. We have an understanding.
I took him with me to the beach. I figured he would like that. He did. I said ‘walk’ and he picked up his…
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