I’m not joking. He plays with catnip mice. He plays with my roommate’s kitties. He’s a lap whore. He’s none too fond of dogs. He does strange acrobatic shit that I can’t explain. He barks and tracks things no one else can see. He stalks birds outside the sliding glass doors. He even does that weird insta-gravity thing of becoming heavier in your lap right when you want to get up (you cat owners know what I’m talking about)!

Meet Blitz Zen. Pronounced like the reindeer. Blitzen is a German word that translates to “flash” in English, and he does zip around the house like a furry white lightning bolt. I spelled it as two words because the dog has only two settings:

  1. Chill as fuuuuuuuck.
  2. Losing his little doggie mind.

He’s a Bichon Frise, or (as I like to put it) a Bitchin’ Frizzy. I didn’t know it when we brought him home, but Bitchin’ Frizzies do this thing where, for a five minute period once per day, the universe shorts out their circuits and sends them flying about the house barking up a storm at nothing and everything. You know what they call this crazy behavior?

Blitzing. I kid you not. Here’s what this bipolar spectacle looks like from another Bitchin’ Frizzy owner.

Anyway, meet my little furry lovemop of a pup. He is especially vested in me being a successful author because it means I get to stay home and write, give him treats, and he gets to sleep in my lap while I work. Hard life, being the puppy, you know?


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