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biba, my best friend

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

I’ve wanted to dedicate a blog post to Biba for a long time, she is now 1 and a half years old. I cannot imagine life without her, and my 10 day  time away in Paris? I missed her more than I’ve ever missed any person, ever. She is my biggest, fluffiest, cutest, most consistent consolidation. I am not kidding when I say she is my best friend. She truly is. If I could take her to the gym with me, I would. Most days I skip the supermarkets that prohibit dogs and we trot off to the canine friendly ones instead. She sleeps in my bed. She follows me around the apartment, wherever I go. I do my makeup on the floor every morning and she sits in my lap and tries to eat the beauty blender. She enjoys carrot sticks and cashews as much as I do and we eat them together on the floor almost everyday. If I go for coffee or a dinner out, she comes too. Truly, the only reason my boyfriend successfully swooned me into a relationship is based on the fact that our second date fell on Biba’s birthday and he brought her a pile of presents. If he hadn’t done that, well I wouldn’t be with him now. Not even kidding.


You are probably aware of how zealously in love I am with all dogs, I much prefer them to people. The older I grow, the more I realize how unlikely it is of ever becoming someone’s wife, but I find sufficient solace in the fact that I could have a dozen dogs instead. A husband seems too much work, but a clan of dogs? That I could happily manage. Ever since I left home and with it, my family’s dogs, I desperately craved one of my own. I grew up with dogs, so my adult life without one always felt lonely. Living in Paris, a city of endless pretty dogs, I’d stare enviously at other people’s pets, wishing they were mine. My biggest, literature fueled pet fantasy was always; adopting a dog who could fill the role of Phillip Pullman’s fantasy creation of a daemon;  a daemon is the external physical manifestation of a person’s ‘inner-self’ that takes the form of an animal. In his books, daemons talk and have human intelligence – Biba isn’t quite at this level yet, but, I have high hopes still. And, if you haven’t read Pullman’s dark materials, I urge you to do so.


The day I adopted Biba, I had the choice between her two of her cousins. It was both the happiest and most frustrating few hours, 3 puppies rolling around on the floor with me was blissful but to choose one? Terrible, so terribly hard, especially for a girl who is incapable of even choosing between waffles or pancakes for brunch. Decisions bring me to halt and then throw me into a tizzy. But Biba was the calmer and cuter of the trio. She slept in a giant cardboard box for a few weeks;  still too small for my bed, I feared I’d crush her in my sleep. I blew most of my money at the enormous pet store in the same way pregnant women indulge in too many baby clothes. She weighed less than a kilo, she’d nap in my bigger handbags and I worried she’d be stepped on. But ultimately, I was ecstatic to finally have a puppy of my own. She is the best thing I ever did. The happiness a dog brings is boundless. So here’s to you little Biba, you are the best part of my day everyday. I don’t even mind that you chewed up not one but two of my Caitlin Moran books. I’ll forgive you for the week you devoured 3 Mac lip liners and the time you peed all over my new rug. I can even try to learn to appreciate the 6 am alarm clock you provide  every morning by sitting on my chest. You are the best, best friend. I am never alone with you around.


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