"She's got puppy feeeevah" (sung to the tune of J.D. from Scubs as he waves a french fry across the table, taunting Turk.)

Yep. I do.

So, P.I.C. starts in on some cruel activities today. He sends me a seemingly innocuous link to a website stating only: "I want so bad I could cry." I open it up, and to my utter horror, it is a web page for PUPPY ADOPTION.

Let me back up a bit. He and I have discussed how we both want a dog. Unfortunately, my landlord has forbidden that occurrence (as has Prince Oxford for now). Furthermore, we came to the conclusion that getting a dog would be a much easier endeavor when we live together. Which will happen soon, but not that soon. So what does he do? He finds the most lovely, beautiful puppy in the world with eyes begging me to kiss her little snout and take her for a long walk. And he sends this picture to me. What a jerk.

I love animals. Perhaps it is because for the majority of my childhood, I didn't have pets. When I was very small, my parents had Great Danes (amazing dogs, by the way, I highly recommend). But after my parents' divorce when I was young, my mom was on her own and therefore we went pet free. As a young kid, I thought my mom was horribly mean for this. (I also thought my parents were the meanest people in the world because we had to go to...MICHIGAN...every summer rather than Disneyland. But that's a story for another time.) Turns out, as a young lady living on my own, I get it. I can't imagine having a dog right now living on my own. My puke machine cat is a handful enough.

When I finally got my own apartment, I made the decision to get a cat. I knew that despite being tested and diagnosed with cat allergies, for whatever reason, Himalayan cats didn't bother me. So shortly after a summer abroad, I found my little man, aptly named Oxford from my recent studying at the University. However, I always knew that I wanted a dog too. I'm an animal lover, fuzzy friends bring a level of joy to my heart that can erase the memories of any crappy day as good as a stiff drink. Why not go for one more?

Since I am being a practical adult by not getting a dog knowing that I cannot properly care for one yet, I like to pet other people's dogs. In fact, I will cross the street to make myself available to pet other people's dogs. I like to think of myself as a dog whisperer. More times than not, if I make eye contact with the dog I am approaching (and the owner seems friendly and not in too much of a hurry), that dog will go NUTS for my petting skills. (Truthfully, my dog whisperer skills are put to shame by those of my brother. He can train a dog in a ridiculously short amount of time to do the best tricks. Bang, bang, Chewy.)

In any event, dogs make me go weak in the knees. They just do. I love them, and their slobbery, sweet and dumb expressions. I love their enthusiasm. I currently am having a very difficult time resisting the siren call of this dog they call "Goldie." Of course, I will rename her something fantastic. Like Sassafras. Or something else clever.

Sigh. All I have to say right now is for those people walking their dogs on my way home, look out. I will likely walk a half block out of my way today just to pet your dog.

Don't be afraid or creeped out.