I’m pretty much 99% certain that New Dog’s head had grown substantially in the past 48 hours. We’re talking several hat sizes. This is the dog that the pound assured us was over a year old at the time of adoption, through the vet later said he was probably more like 9 months. I don’t expect him to be having any major growth spurts at this point, but he seems to be becoming larger.
This is the cute little beagle we saved from the pound last summer because he was the only non-hysterical dog in the place and seemed pretty mellow, but apparently he has a bit of hound thrown in because he’s already grown way bigger than an average beagle since we brought him home. Big dogs are great, but we wanted a smaller dog this time so Old Dog would not be threatened by New Dog and they would co-exist in harmony without destroying the house.
The Boyfriend says the growth spurt is because the dog “…is getting smarter”, assuming a larger head is necessary to hold the larger brain, even though we’ve had several larger dogs already with fairly huge heads who were dumber than shit but really great dogs. I’m assuming the dog is part of the Becoming Angel process, a Familiar as it were, and because my Angel growth is accelerating, so is his big head.
Wait, says you, a Familiar is usually a demon incarnate as an animal, held and commanded by witches to help them cast their evil spells. A witch is something of Satan, while an Angel is something of God. To which I answer, oh for the love of mud grow a brain of your own and stop buying into that old school King James bullshit and actually learn something before you start blathering on about it.
Most of the “witches” who were burned in history were actually midwives and herbalists. The church didn’t like empowered women, because in the church’s narrow little minds only a penis has the right to think and dictate how it’s going to be, because at that time (and in this time), the Dicks were running the church. So they burned the midwives and herbalists, because back then the midwives and herbalists were the only hope most of the riff-raff had of staying alive past the age of 12, which gave them a great deal of power. So the Dicks had to Show That Bitch Who’s Boss. Make a great deal of noise in the name of god, beat on our hairy chests, and kill that empowered woman. And her little dog, too.
In any case, New Dog seems to be much fonder of The Boyfriend than he is of me, because The Boyfriend is the one in charge of daily walks, which is New Dog’s idea of Heaven. But since he’s around, and since his head is transforming into a Great Dane instead of a Beagle, and since I look for and find omens in pretty much anything that I choose, I choose to think New Dog is a Familiar, to assist on this transformation to Angel, even if Old Dog is doing his fair share just by putting up with me all these years.