Miss Silliness

I'll say this with certainty: my dog is the silliest dog I know. The other three dogs in our building are far more serious; they act their age. 

Not my Miss Silliness. Nearly nine years old now, but we still have to twist and shout with the sweaters. We still have to cross directly in front of folks passing on the sidewalk. We still must lunge   towards everything small and moving like bugs, birds, mice, and of course, those DNA-despised squirrels she gets only in dreams.

We'll never ignore the other dogs barking across the busy boulevard, or stay chill defying our Chihuahua roots, or stop sneaking something to chew when we're not looking. 

My Miss Silliness, she's never too fond of training lessons, basic commands, or being polite in public. I'm always apologizing for her, and feeling like I'm just lacking the skills to improve her behavior.

But, dogs must also think we're pretty silly. Like, collecting and inspecting their poop, looking into their ears, brushing each canine tooth, that's some weird ritual and obsession, they must conclude. 

And, okay, maybe acting one's age is not a plan I ever follow either.

And, serious is what the news is for, so blaring and highly overrated. Then maybe Miss Silliness gets a pass to her favorite park today, and we'll keep our silly expectations parked at the meter.