September 1, 2010
At this point, it is Wednesday which means that I have only been in Europe for a total of four days. Sadly, I am already suffering from severe, Pearl-separation-anxiety. Pearl, my five-year-old, maltese is my baby girl. I openly admit to being completely and utterly obsessed with her... and fluffy, cuddly dogs in general, for that matter. My best friend often jokes that I talk about my dogs as if they have human characteristics. I cannot even deny this.
At this point, it is Wednesday which means that I have only been in Europe for a total of four days. Sadly, I am already suffering from severe, Pearl-separation-anxiety. Pearl, my five-year-old, maltese is my baby girl. I openly admit to being completely and utterly obsessed with her... and fluffy, cuddly dogs in general, for that matter. My best friend often jokes that I talk about my dogs as if they have human characteristics. I cannot even deny this.
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| Pearl Girl |
Anyhow, Firenze is bopping with dogs! Native dogs. Tourist dogs. Dogs in bike baskets. Dogs with earthy-crunchy-painter-types.
Lauren (a fellow Crusader abroad with me) and I, frequently bombard these Italian dogs--cooing and cawing at them while receiving creeped-out stares from both their owners and random frightened onlookers.
Today, while chowing down on panini, we shrieked at the sight of “Emu,” a curly, gray wolfhound from Holland. He LOVED the attention and his owners must have found us truly hilarious because they most definitely took embarrassing pictures of us obsessing over him...
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