Charlie; adorable beast and best mistake I ever made.

My dog was the best mistake I ever made. I'm only a little ashamed to say I love him like a child. The story of Charlie, the 35 pound 90 pound 105 pound dog goes a little something like this:

I had this roommate. Roommate wanted a dog. I was like; "Okay."

We went to the shelter. Roommate petted about 3085286518201.37 dogs. I walked to the end of the kennel and saw this little guy:

All cute and tiny and irresistible.

He looked so pathetic, sitting there in the kennel at the pound. He was the only dog that wasn’t barking or howling its head off at us. It was instant love.

^ Instant love. ^

The guy at the pound told us that he was going to be about 35 pounds fully grown. I was like, “35 pounds? Sure. Sounds good.”

That lying bastard. The dog is now 90 pounds. He enjoys sitting on my lap (read: crushing me to death), barking at things and being obnoxiously adorable.

He likes to try to run away a lot and if I open the door he tries to escape. I'm not sure why a spoiled dog is so intent on running away. I feed him tons of expensive kibble, pet him every day and baby talk him more than I would an actual baby. But for some reason, he runs and runs and evades capture. He will not come back for a treat, a toy or even a damn steak. And I end up just following him on foot, screaming curses at him and blocking traffic.

Ahh, good times.

Turns out, he really only wants to track down other dogs for the purpose of smelling and tail wagging. Once he realizes that running away to do it was probably a bad choice, he comes back. The whole process will send me to an early grave, I'm pretty sure.

UPDATE: I have discovered that he will come back if you throw open a car door and shriek "CAR RIDE".