This is my little dog, Ziggy. He is a 12 year-old Boston Terrier love muffin.
He doesn’t know he’s a dog, and that’s my fault. I’ve always referred to him as my furry son. My Baby refers to him as her little brother. The Complete Package calls him “my man” or “my little buddy”. I call him Zigman and Sugar Booger. Mostly, we just call him spoiled rotten.
Ziggy is a Virgo who loves cheese, ice cream, car rides, “Billy the Exterminator” on Netflix, laying on the back porch in the sun, small children and long walks on the beach. He wants to come back as himself in another life.
He also loves long naps on the sofa, covered in his favorite afghan. That boy loves a good blankie, and he makes no bones about wanting to be covered up.
When sleeping, Zig snores like a 400-pound man. Has ever since he was a puppy.
We know he’s due for a bath when he starts smelling like Fritos. Stale Fritos.
That little area just above his nose is the softest spot on his entire body. It’s baby bunny soft. I love that spot. And I’m pretty sure that one day I may actually rub all the fur off the tips of his ears. They’re super soft, too. So is his tummy. I’m in luck there, because he turns into a big bowl of jelly over a good tummy rub.
He’s my sweet little Mr. Spoiled Rotten Smushy Face Stinky Butt Love Muffin, and I think I’ll keep him. Although, to be honest, I think he’s keeping us.