pawprints in the snow

i write a lot about clothes and fashion and crap i can't afford, so much so that i sometimes hang my head in shame for the seemingly wasteful vanity i feel i sometimes exude. i don't mean to come off that way. i just love clothes too much. i am a clothes whore. the only reason i throw clothes out (aka, donate them) is so i can make room in my (way too small) closet for new clothes. this week i was going to drop more money (that i don't have) on clothes (that i don't need - but when has it ever been about needing clothes with me? although i do currently need black pants and patterned camis. ugh, anyway....) but i'll have to wait with that purchase that would have admittedly made me very happy. but happiness is not this adorable cashmere sweater (in baby blue) or this beautiful kate spade birdcage necklace (that i saw in person in soho last month and so i can indeed vouch for its adorableness. yes, i did just drop a soho reference. i'm a dork like that.).


happiness is this face, healthy and happy, snuggling next to me. it wasn't a happy ending for me two years ago, coming home from the vet without the dog i had only had for two weeks. but i never felt my love for animals more than when i was deep in despair for the doggie i had lost.

i love his smell. i love his smile. i love it when he does the beagle wiggle in excitement. i love his little snores as he floats in doggy dreamland. i love that face, those adorable ears softer than velvet, that spotted belly that turns pink when he snuggles deeper in the blankets. i love that it took the worse to make me realize how lucky we are, this beagle and me, to have found each other and take this road together.