Doggos make the world bearable


I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, when it comes to the dispute between cats versus dogs, dogs win every time no question about it.
I suppose my stance is controversial because I never grew up with a cat as a pet, so my opinion about which is better is unfairly influenced by my personal experience.
From what I’ve gathered from my limited time spent around cats, though, is that they are not nearly as playful, loyal and adorable compared to the average doggo.
I do have to admit however, that kittens are much cuter than cats and I can see the appeal for wanting a fuzzy little feline running around.
Even so, the comparison between kittens and puppies is a joke because it is just a simple known fact that there is nothing more utterly precious in this universe than a tiny baby puppy — specifically a tiny basset hound baby puppy.
Over the weekend I traveled home to see the newest addition to the Burger household, a little basset hound pup named Delilah.
Of course, she is the cutest little creature I’ve ever seen, and she knows it.
She hadn’t even been in the house a full 24 hours before deciding that the couch was her new throne and that she was the new princess of the household.
The next time I am home my mother will have probably turned my bedroom into Delilah’s new palace, but it’s OK because she is, in fact, THAT cute.
Dogs, basset hounds specifically, have always been an important part of my family and the main thing that makes home feel like home.
Every time I walk through the door I know that I’m going to be immediately greeted with a wagging tale and puppy kisses.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and always look forward to seeing them when I return, but nothing beats the look on your dog’s face when it sees that you’re back home.
With this newest addition to our family, however, I’m afraid that this doggo won’t be as excited every time I return.
Delilah is the first house pet that really isn’t mine since I don’t live at home anymore.
For her, I will probably be a familiar visitor that just happens to be around a lot, rather than a member of her family or “pack.”
This is the first pet that I feel belongs to my parents rather than me, and it makes me sad knowing that I won’t get to see her grow up through the years like the dogs that lived with me through my childhood.
I guess this is just one of many weird ways that I’m realizing my independence as an adult.
The home address isn’t where I send things to, the maps app no longer labels Blooming Valley as “home” and the family dog really isn’t mine anymore.
And within the next few months, I’ll be six hours away with a new address, a new place labeled as “home” and probably without a pet to consider mine.
I’m not worried though because I know myself and I know I am a dog person.
I will inevitably own many dogs throughout my adult life and I know that there are plenty of tail wags and puppy kisses in my future.
Adulting is a very scary concept and one that I try not to spend too much time worrying about, but every time I do think of where I’ll be in five, 10 or 15 years, I know that I’ll have a dog by my side to help make this big confusing life a little more bearable.

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