Today, my house mate's dog came to say hello, with her Mum, Dad and brother. We played the 'lets go through Ms Durham's dirty laundry and pull out her pants' game, the 'terrify the house mate with a phobia of dogs' game, and finally the 'deposit a swamp in the kitchen' game. BUT it was AMAZING. I miss my dogs like an idiot misses the point. Walked past the Pump House and resisted the afternoon tea temptation, just.
And now, watching Marley and Me, I'm a sobbing mess. Student houses, with the standard no-pets policy is a tragic situation. There's a big, empty space next to me on the sofa that should be occupied by my chocolate lab, formally Humphrey. I want to wake up to my dogs demanding their breakfast and piling onto the sofa with a steaming cup of tea in hand, that will inevitably end up all over my dressing gown. Naughty jumping up and wet noses on grinning cheeks.
If the men in Durham were anything like dogs, things would be ten times simpler. Lackadaisical. Laddy. Lack bloody luster. Same story. Night in Lloyds, numbers swapped and Facebook stalked. Text text text. Message Message Message... and then what? It's just a bit bleh. I'm aware this is a MASSIVE generalisation, and definitely one of a single girl that's having a bit of a rubbish run. But just once, I'd quite like two front paws on my shoulders, threatening to sweep me off my feet. Filthy and gorgeous.
Not such a dogs life.
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