The Doggo

The Doggo.

El Doofus.

The Old Man.

Mr. Bed Hog.

His actual name is Draco but it seems he’ll answer to Doofus or Shithead more often than not.  He came to our home years ago after our dog mini pin Dusty died from cancer.  Our other dog, Missy the fat wiener dog was grieving so hard without her companion Dusty whom she had grown up with since she joined the family as a little pup.  Dad was grieving really hard too over Dusty, the dog he used to take with him everywhere including Dillons. No shit, he’d tuck a baby Dusty into his jacket and take him to get groceries.   Really, up until recently, I didn’t really know how Draco ended up here at our house.  Our ever-loving friends in Cheney were concerned for the dog and dad and decided we needed another four-legged friend to join the fam.

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When Draco was dropped off our house I begged and begged to pick his name.  This was back in my peak Harry Potter crazed fan days and every single name I threw out to my mom was Harry Potter related.  She hated pretty much all of them except Remus.  But I insisted on Draco.  She caved, I know purely on the grounds she was tired of hearing me whine.

Since I’ve moved back home I had to make the difficult decision to put our old Missy girl down after she got really sick.  That left just Draco and me to weather the journey of life together living alone, like tornado threats, killing spiders and trapping mice.

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He hogs my twin bed.

He spills his food.

He still barks at the mower and the vacuum even though he knows what’s going to happen.

He won’t let me poop alone.

He’s my doggo.

 

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