People have their pictures taken with celebrities.  One night, tipsy at a friend’s mom’s bienvenida party near Don Antonio, I met Boggart.  I couldn’t resist having my picture taken with him.

Yes, the name matched this huge dog but only in appearance.  The demon-incarnate-looking Boggart stuck next to me like a KITTEN all night, of all things.  When my friends and I first met Boggart, we were wary.  “Boggart likes to run.  So don’t run,” Harold’s mom said.  Beside me Ana and Jopet sort of laughed nervously.

She should have said, “Boggart likes to run outside if he finds the front gate is open.”

She should have added, “Boggart the 3-year-old Doberman thinks he’s a Labrador puppy.”  Dober-marshmallow is more like it.  Boggart was overjoyed to meet new friends!  Good thing he wasn’t the sort who jumped on you and murdered your clothes with muddy paws.  He actually went to obedience school.  And graduated.

Boggart wasn’t actually Harold’s mom’s dog.  Let’s say the house came with the dog when they bought it.  Alas, I must say Boggart is useless as a guard dog.  He loves being petted and having his ears scratched and back stroked.  I like that he doesn’t sneak food from your plate when you’re not looking, because his head already comes up to the height of the table.  He does beg and put his paws on your knees.  And look at you with meaningfully while the following thought runs through his head:  *barbecue! o dearest master’s friend! be kind and generous to your little Boggart!*

Harold was amazed that Boggart and I got along so well.  I’ve always loved dogs, although it depended on their personality.  Boggart is quite… affectionate.  Ana and Jopet were quite happy to sit on the far side of the gazebo.

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