The circus in which I live

I found out from a voice mail message that "we" were dog-sitting for a giant German shepard named Boston this weekend.

Lucky for me, I was at an amazing concert last night and then stayed at Liz's to escape the madness (and because it's fun to have sleepovers at age 24).

When I arrived back in B-town after sharing a Mexican lunch and margaritas with my most beloved opera singer (Cat) and lounging at Liz's for the rest of the afternoon, I found Boston - a 3-year-old sweetheart - waiting inside the front door. His eyes show him to be nervous about his dog-sitting experience, despite the fact that he outweighs all of the other animals in this small mad-house.

In all honesty, Boston doesn't fit here. He's too big to turn around in most spaces here without knocking something valuable off of a table or chair or slamming himself into a hard surface. All he wants is to be petted - but I'm not fond of petting dogs, as they smell like, well, Dog.

Wial - the Saudi Arabian 18-year-old who I share the basement with - said to me, "That is BIG dog." Then he paused before going on, "No, that a tiger, not a dog."

I guess they don't have pets in Saudi Arabia, especially not big dogs in small houses. Poor Boston. Poor Wial.

*sigh

Did I mention that I have only 8 weeks from today before I can graduate and move on?