Meet Otto

So you and me, we've been dating for what, a year now? I think it's time you met my crazy dog, Otto, and I mean crazy-smart. Otto's a greyhound we adopted in 2006 when he was one month shy of five years. He eats whole sticks of butter if we leave the butter dish out overnight along with sneaking entire bags of bagels. He loves to run in the snow, in leaves and in the ocean, otherwise he sleeps all day. It's true, greyhounds are the fastest couch potatoes. And he tolerates us dressing him up as a reindeer for our holiday cards. 
   
And smart? He knew I was pregnant before we did. Both times I was preggers, he never left my side. Kind of annoying but sweet too. That's how I knew I was pregnant the second time. And he has a love-hate relationship with me, I'm the master. When he's mad at me he'll pee on only my clean laundry (even though my husband's is right next to it) or eat only my passport a week before a trip (even though my husband's is right next to it). And we haven't come to terms with this yet, but he loves his dogwalker more than he loves us. He actually nibbles on her. It's cute! I will say this, if you can adopt a greyhound then please do it. They're wonderful, even with kids, because they're pack dogs—there's no jealousy, they're just happy to be a part of a family. 


So without further ado, I give you Ottoman: