Okay, so here's a bunch of stuff that appeals to me about the Sidekick.
1) Last night, she sauntered through the back door and sat on the kitchen floor glowering up at me and looking a little bit crazy. I was perplexed at this mood swing in her--she is generally a fairly lighthearted dog--so I asked her, "Why are you frowning at me?" As she continued to glower, I bent down and noticed a large streak of dirt that was adorning her eyebrow and making her look like: (a) The baby-with-the-one-eyebrow on The Simpsons; and/or (b) A wrathful elderly Russian man with wiry and assertive eyebrows. I do not know if this picture captures the essence of the moment, but I tried.
2) Wildlife makes her somewhat emotional and chatty. When she spies a squirrel, or--as happened yesterday, a chipmunk--she mutters like a bitter old man complaining about the price of soup. You can kind of hold conversations with her at these times.
Me: "Oh, yeah? What is it out there?"
Sidekick: "ARrrow rrrow roooooo."
Me: "Oh, you mean that chipmunk? The one cheekily perched atop the stump?"
Yes, this is the one she meant:
3) She thinks she's sneaky. A little while ago, I let her in from outside and she crept through the kitchen casting casual glances at me from the corner of her eye and furiously chewing. It's the casual glances that tip you off every time. Turns out she was savoring a large sunflower seed intended for the birds. Frankly, it's always a relief when I hook a seed out of her mouth and not something of a sketchier nature.
Yes, I know I'm sounding like a crazy dog lady. I can't help it. There is hope, however. I recently passed a crazy dog lady test administered by a friend.
Friend: "So, when are you going to come see me with your little daughter?"
Me: "My WHAT what?"
Friend: "Your little daughter Sidekick."
Me: "Okay. That makes me really uncomfortable."
Friend: "Good. That means you're still this side of crazy dog ladyness. I'm watching you."