This summer I've decided to visit my boyfriend and his family in Sweden. Thus far, I'm having the time of my life. His folks are incredibly kind (not to mention outstanding cooks) and Sweden is a gorgeous country. Fortunately, I get to stay here another wonderous two more months, but as lovely as it all is, there is one thing that usually kills my vibe: Varg (pronounced V-are-ee in Swedish).

Varg is my boyfriend's one-year-old Alaskan Husky. He's got beautiful powder blue eyes, a tri-colored coat composed of black, an almost golden brown, and white, and the sharpest claws on this side of the hemisphere.

In Swedish, Varg means wolf. Aside from my boyfriend's "inspired" name, this rascal of a dog truly does live up to his namesake. Like wolves, Varg is athletic, strong, and needs a long, long walk to burn off even a little of his inexhaustible energy supply. Unlike his predecessors, Varg is too clumsy to possess one ounce of grace. He's a goofball that gets excited when he sees his own tail wagging.

He volunteers people to become a part of playtime, nudging at your hands, rubbing his head against your shoulder, hip, or leg. It's a trap, really, because the moment you go to pet him the teeth come out and he's ready to roughhouse. Of course, he rarely ever actually hurts anyone. Despite all of his energy, he's a gentle and docile dog nine times out of ten.

No, the only sharp thing you have to watch on Varg is his claws. We check them often, trim them carefully, and yet we still end up with scratches. He's got that lapdog syndrome, where despite his size he is determined and certain that at the end of a long day he's meant to curl up on your lap and snuggle. This, paired with his hyperactive personality leads to whomever he's sitting on becoming a launch pad for his sudden decision to bounce off your lap and after a cat, a sound, or seemingly nothing at all.

Another thing that gets under my skin is when he begs for food. Food begging itself doesn't bother me. I've got three dogs of my own who've mastered wooing me with their big brown eyes, but Varg lacks something very important: subtlety. My dogs will sit at the foot of your chair, quietly, longingly, and patiently wait until you're finished with your meal to get whatever scraps you care to give. Varg, however, will sit, quietly and longingly as close to your face as he physically can. He'll look into your soul until you either fork over a piece or scold him, and honestly neither feel like the right answer.

Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, and aside from his often destructive quirks, I love Varg, too; it's just a little hard to say after losing four pairs of socks, two sets of headphones, a belt, my trackball, a pillow, my nice jeans, and my laptop charger. Sometimes love just finds a way to bury itself deep, deep down in our hearts, and hides itself under a blanket of temporary frustration, because you had to pay a lot of money to ship yourself a new laptop charger so you could let your relatives know you're still not dead in the scary, scary land of Sweden or write an article for the Odyssey.