I Have Hot Dogs

I'm waiting not so patiently for Janet Evanovich's Sizzling Sixteen to arrive, so I thought I'd deviate from reviewing books today and give you a little slice of my life.

These are my dogs, Griffin and Gatsby. They are both brindle boxers ages 2 and 3, respectively. Before I get into the explanation for the title of this post, I would like to entertain you with an anecdote from awhile back:

The boys and I were going on our daily walk down a neighboring street where a house recently had some severe fire damage and was under construction. The house is swarming with shirtless, sweaty construction workers and as I'm walking by a loud whistle rings out. I do a quick once over of myself and determine that I must be having a "pretty" day (aside from the bag of poo I'm holding. Poo is most definitely not sexy). Go me. Then I hear this:

"Wow, those are really beautiful dogs."

Huh.

Clearly, my self assessment a minute earlier wasn't entirely accurate, and I was not, in fact, having a "pretty" day. We continue on our walk and I get home and call my husband to fish for a compliment. Nothing fancy. Something along the lines of "I think you're better looking than the dogs" will do. Instead, peals of laughter come through the phone. Apparently my husband thinks this is the funniest thing he's heard, well, ever.

As a result of the above incident, my husband and I now keep track of the number of people that stop us when we're out walking and compliment the boys. Don't get me wrong, it's incredibly flattering that people take the time to ask us questions about boxers and want to heap piles of attention on them. And the dogs just eat it up. One little boy even decided that Gatsby's name was actually Lincoln, and now refers to him as such whenever we see him. Not sure why.

So, people find my dogs quite attractive, and today on our walk no less than 3 people stopped us. Good day. If we were keeping an accurate tally, that would be dogs: 111, 234 compliments, Jenny: 0. Excellent:)