The popular girls

Elementary school was a long time ago, but I still harbor pleasant memories (or maybe illusions) of being one of the popular girls. I was athletic, so I was a valued member of any team; I was smart (which admittedly has more to do with being popular with teachers), and, if I may say so, cute (although, if I was aware of that, it didn't translate to confidence.) And I was nice to the not-so-popular girls. Then middle school happened. Let us never speak of that again. 

But now, now, I find myself popular again! This time, however, it has little to do with my personality, and everything to do with the fact that I harbor PUPPIES at my house--that is, at least one puppy most of the time, and often two. "Can I come see the puppies?" say my friends. "Are the puppies awake?" asks the ten-year-old neighbor boy. "Oh, puppies!" sighs everyone anywhere ever. (Unless they're cat people, and then there's no hope for them.) On our first visit to the vet, at least five techs materialized in the lobby to see the puppies, one with her phone taking pictures. What strange, exotic creatures! What magnetic, irresistible, unparalleled cuteness! Cute without even trying. Sweet even though they chew whatever objects and textures that they can get their evil--I mean, sharp--teeth on. They may smell trouble before you can even think of it, but that "Who, me?' expression, the goofy gamboling that passes for running, and the fluffy butts and carrot tails are irresistible. You just hope they'll like you enough that you can be their friend.