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Today my mischievous little pup ran out of the house when greeting my dad at the door. This behavior isn't out of the ordinary as he is a bit of a loose cannon, which why I often sing the song psycho killer by the talking heads to him, except switch the word 'killer' with 'puppy.'

Anyways after he did this, he ran off to a house a couple doors down with a huskie that's always tied up in their garage with the door half open (ahem, rude). I knew this was troublezz because our very untrained Ralphie aka Ralphalfa always barks passionately when passing this house/dog (which gives me the feeling there may be some beef over chickitas and/or bone thugs-n-harmony.)

When my sister brought him into the house she told me shit went down with the huskie and he and falfalfa had gotten into a tiff. I went to pet him I noticed he was shaking and bleeding near his eye!
Both my mom or bro weren't home --by default making me the most loved by Ralpha outta the family members left-- so he was pretty compliant when I trimmed the fur around his cut and tried to clean his wound. I handled it so well, it occured to me, if I had not been allergic to cats and find the concept of birds trapped in cages horrible, I may have made a pretty decent vet. Minus doing gross surgery.

Anyways, when my mom came back Ralphy loved her but mostly came up to me to be pet and to play. Seoo suffice to say the main goal of my voyage back to Canadia has been achieved and now my puppy probably loves me the most in the family. Woop wooh. Of course completing uni was second on the list of goals.