Oskar, My Life - Part One

My name is Oskar Carlson.  Oskar with a “K” and Carlson with a “C.” I am a five-year old Boston Terrier,  and I live near Boston.  I am  a “brindle,” When my human takes me for a walk other humans often say “Oh, he’s a brindle, that’s unusual.”  I don’t know what a brindle is, I guess I should, but I don’t. I am also big for a Boston and very strong, solid muscle.

I was born in Arkansas, and was never under a roof until I moved to Boston. I ate, slept and played outside. One day I was playing in my yard when a man grabbed me, put me in a cage, put the cage in a truck and the truck began moving. It moved for what seemed like forever.  No one ever told me this was going to happen.  One day I’m playing with my siblings and the next day I’m in a cage on my way to Boston.  My human met me when the truck finally stopped but I did not know she was my human at the time.  She was just a human looking very happy and excited to see me.

I live in an apartment called The Mill and you have to get in a box like a little closet to get there. The closet has no windows and a sliding door.  Since I had never been inside anything, it was scary the first time  when the box started moving. You have to get in or out fast or the door will hit you in the beehind.  I don’t have much of a tail, so my beehind has had a few good whacks from that door.  The box goes up and down, never sideways.  Then you walk down a long hall until you come to a door to my apartment.   

I live in a big building with lots of other humans and quite a few dogs.  The humans mostly like me a lot.  As a matter of fact, they like me too much because they all want to hit me on the top of my head.  My human told me they only want to pat me, but you never know.  I back up fast when I see a hand coming. One of the humans put a picture of a Boston Terrier on my door in the middle of the night.  Cute.