So, my grandpa passed away and my mom finally came home from Georgia. It actually turned out to be a good thing, he was suffering a lot at the end.

Anyways, this was his dog Rags. My mom brought her home with us and she’s going to live in the city with my roommates and I. I’ve only known her a couple days and I already love her. I feel bad for being happy she’s here because it means someone died, but I guess we have to take the good with the bad and hope good outweighs bad in the end.

She’s so adorable, and calm, and nice and trained really well and perfect. Well, actually not technically perfect. She has broken tear ducts and bad back legs, which means we have to give her eye drops three times a day and sometimes she runs lifting her back leg. But this is going to be a good thing, I think. My roommates are really excited to have an animal, something to take care of other than ourselves. As annoying it might be to have her wake me up really early, I’m kind of looking forward to going on walks first thing in the morning.