Me? A Model? (the seventeenth)

Guten tag, friends!

Oh, I’m sorry – “guten tag” means “good day” in German. I’ve been brushing up on a couple of foreign languages in my spare time and sometimes I just slip into them without thinking. You understand.

Anyways, welcome to this week’s edition of Me? A Model? hosted by yours truly, Brody the hound.

For those of you who are joining us for the first time, allow me to explain. Me? A Model? is a segment in which I showcase some of my more powerful looks and grace readers with glimpses into my modelesque life. Some weeks are inspiring (like this one here), some weeks are rough (like this one here, for instance, or this one), some are full of helpful life lessons (like this one) and others are just plain fun (here!).

Bottom line: you pretty much never know what you’re gonna get.

We’re kickin’ it old school this week on MaM with another Way Back Wednesday, so toss on those time traveling goggles and keep your arms in legs inside the vehicle at all times. It’s about to get all sorts of adorbs up in this joint.

The time: September 2010
The place: our old apartment
I’m feeling: do I even have to say it? I’m feeling adorable. And a little stuck.

Yup, it’s another baby Brody picture. You’re welcome.

It’s hard to remember ever being this small – I’ve been so tall and majestic for so long that it’s kind of all I know. And I leap on and off of chairs with the greatest of ease these days so it’s funny to think that I would have ever been sitting there, teetering around like a tiny, adorable…teetering thing.

But I guess I was that wee at some point. Sometimes I hear Chrissy and Justin talking about me when I was a baby and they’ll say something like “good thing he was cute or else he would have been out on the street.” I can only assume that they’re talking about me, because I was (excuse me, am) really cute, but the part about me getting put on the street is kind of rude. I mean, sure, I was a little ill-behaved, but who can blame me? I was just a baby, I didn’t know any better.

Though I do have a vague memory of chasing Chrissy around the apartment and biting her with my little puppy needle teeth, and then right when I could see real fear start to enter her eyes, biting her pant leg and refusing to let go, even when she started walking away and dragging my limp body behind her. I guess that does seem a little calculated on my part.

Oh, or when I would stroll through the fence posts while we were out on walks and then pretend not to know how to get back through and stand juuust out of reach of Chrissy and Justin when they tried to reach through to get me and then watch them as they climbed over to retrieve me.

Oh, or when I would find cigarettes or chewed gum while we were on walks and make a big show of eating it and then put up a fuss when they pulled it out of my mouth.

Oh, or when I would hide in the bushes if I saw another dog while we were out on a walk and then once the other dog got close enough I would leap out of the bushes and scare everyone and the other owner would look at Chrissy and Justin as if they had planned it.

Huh. I guess it is a good thing I’m cute.

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