Murray

I got a dog. He's a pug. The kind that is so horrendous that you can't help but find it adorable. One of the great oxymoron's of the universe. God has a sense of humor.

Murray's first day went well. He mostly sniffed around the house and gathered information regarding his new surroundings.

Pugs are co-dependent, they thrive on being around people. If I am in the living room, Murray is in the living room. This morning when I took a shower, he just sat there and stared at the shower curtain, I know because I checked.... several times. I felt bad so I sang him a song. Murray peed on the carpet, right in front of me, so I put him in the kitchen while I practiced guitar. When I went to check on him he went nuts because he had missed me so much. I'm beginning to feel suffocated, this dog is always there, watching me. Get a freakin life you mut!

I really do like the dog, and things are less lonely in the morning at my place. It's fun to watch him be a dog. I'm over dramatizing about my suffocation, though I strangely feel like this furry monstrosity is invading my personal space.

I need to be more like Murray, a little more... a lot more dependent on being around God all the freaking time. Shouldn't I go nuts with excitement when God comes around after being gone (or at least my feeling like he's been gone) for a while. I'm glad God doesn't feel suffocated by my presence.

I'm really not a huge fan of cute little stories that illustrate a cute little truth about a cute little God, I hope this isn't one of those.

Prayer for the day: Dad, make me like a little co-dependent butt ugly pug who stares at the shower curtain.