Hello Reader. My new blogging assistant and canine companion is so cute I think she may have usurped Friday Cuteness permanently!
Allow me to introduce you. This is Freya.
Freya! Come here, Freya! Look over here. Come on, Freya. Freeeeya!Freya is a blue-eyed two-year-old wolf, I mean Husky. She has no training--none whatsoever. To make up for this, she aims to be as cute and sweet as possible. She's also very liberal with kisses--though she goes straight for the mouth.Why the mouth, Freya!? We met less than a week ago; can't we start with the hand or cheek? I'm old fashioned like that. Plus, you know, you sort of lick your butt.
Alas, these complex formalities exhaust her and she must take her rest. Immediately and in the middle of the kitchen.
Freya's main joys in life are belly rubs and walking/running/moving beyond the speed of light. Despite the many toys we have showered on her, she shows no interest in any of them. She just wants to go--preferably straight ahead and as fast as possible.
There is only one creature that comforts Freya during those introspective moments when she stops moving in order to contemplate the Canine Condition and the True Meaning of Life. And that brave soul is the noble and long-suffering Mr. Chips.
Poor Mr. Chips squeaks when he is frightened. And when Mr. Chips squeaks, Freya goes as crazy as I might if, say, you appeared beside me right now waving a bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs. But after being tossed and chewed repeatedly, Mr. Chips succumbs to the pain and faints, his unanswered squeaks for help falling silent.
Then they cuddle.Please send help. For his sake.