I'm a dog person.
A weirdo dog person; one who stops strangers to pet the iddy-biddy long haired chihuahuas they're carrying deep down inside their coats even if it means invading some serious personal space.
And I would expect the same if I had somehow managed to strap my 80 pound Golden somewhere onto my person.
Which I cannot.
I have tried.
Also as a dog person I allow myself to become as tiny as possible when I sleep so that my poor aging Oliver has room to stretch out on the bed when we retire for the evening. After a few minutes of wrestling for position and covers and then fighting off nose jabs to my face we end up like this:
Oh the things we do for our D-O-Gs.
