There's something beautiful about house sitting. You walk in and you're hit by both air conditioning and the realization that you have the whole house all to yourself. Well, yourself and...the dog. Yeah, there's a dog.
I'm not a fan of dogs. But when I met this one, he promised to be different with his big brown eyes and little buck teeth that can never tuck their way into his tiny puppy mouth. This kid follows me everywhere. Twice I got concerned because I turned around and didn't see him following me. Turns out he was so close to my heels that he was out of my line of vision.
His large 13-year-old owner (my cousin) named him Winchester, after the gun. Pause to understand this. A dog the size of an underdeveloped cat has been named after a gun. But, true to his name, the first time I walked into the house, he charged at me like a pistol, bravely defending his house against the intruder by circling me with huge matador sweeps and scared nips. If I was a burglar, all I would have had to do was sneeze on him. It was adorable.
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