You may have noticed that I'm not nearly as angry this season. Part of that is because the Kings have the core pieces they need to win a Stanley Cup: Kopitar, Doughty, and the Jonathans will, barring some Sharkesque streak of bad luck, bring a Cup to LA. Part of it is because I'm older and have less leeway to throw tantrums.. But most of it is this girl:
Yep, folks, ol' Rudy got himself a pooch. ...OK, technically she's my roommate's dog but c'mon, she loves me the most. Her name is Maggie, which is a weird name for a dog but whatever. I came like this close to convincing my roommate to name her Matti before he figured out that I was trying to get her named after Matti Norstrom. Anyway, she's still awesome and we have all sorts of adventures.
Here she is playing:
Here she is resting:
Maggie, you strumpet!!!
Anyway, she's awesome. We go jogging (and I swear, she fucking stops traffic when people see her), we play fetch, I hold her down and grab her chest while yelling, "Cover your heart, Maggie! COVER YOUR HEART!!!' (She is bewildered by this.) She's only a few months old but she already can shake hands and will sometimes roll over. She's so smart! My roommate's girlfriend even got her this fetching number, which she inexplicably loves wearing:
Adorable. She is the brightest part of my day and no matter how badly work or hockey goes my worries instantly melt away when I hear the jingle of her collar and know she's just around the corner.
...That being said, if the Kings don't win tomorrow night, I will murder this fucking dog. Think I'm joking?
Your move, Kings. Maggie's life is in your hands.