February 26, 2011

Ryder is nearly five years old. I call her puppy, but I guess she’s old in dog years — all the other puppies probably think she’s over the hill.

When I got her four years ago, I didn’t really like her. She was a little savage, and I wanted a calm, indifferent coonhound. But she was also kinda cute and needy so she grew on me.

But even though she’s old, she’s still trouble.

She’s getting me evicted.

Turns out she likes to howl when I’m not home. She’s a hound. Her howls disturb my unemployed neighbours and the shady businesses downstairs.

“We have to do something about your dog,” the landlord said. “I don’t know what.”

I told him I’m moving. Now when I’m at work, I make Ryder scour the Pennysaver for a place to live. I’ll let her sniff out the next place. I guess she’s old enough to make her own decisions now.