She is SO SMALL. She is the smallest human! Smaller than the cat, smaller than the good shoe, and my human is holding her like she is made of the bones you are NOT allowed to have.
I sniffed her. I sniffed her foot. She smells like milk and warm and my human and something new, a smell I have never smelled, and I have smelled EVERYTHING. I know all the smells. This is a new one. THE BEST one.
She cannot throw the ball. I brought the ball. I brought it right up and set it by her tiny hand and she did nothing! She does not know about the ball yet. That is okay. I will teach her. I will teach her the ball and the door and the good spot by the window.
I have so much to teach her and I have decided I love her more than anything, which is a lot, because I love everything.
My human is crying. But it is the good crying, the leaking-happy crying, the crying they do when I come back after being gone one whole minute. So I am wagging. I am wagging so hard my whole back end is wagging.
I have appointed myself. I did not ask. I am the one who lies by the small human now. I am the one who listens for her in the night. That is my job forever.
Also there is a snack coming. I can smell it.
There is always, always a snack coming.