This Dog of Mine

Let me tell you about this dog of mine.

He is the sweetest most frustrating thing on the planet.

His muddy paws are all over my white bedspread.

He barks like crazy at the bunnies next door.

He rolls around in the dirt right after he's bathed.

He takes off after squirrels and will hear no command.

He sneaks into our bedroom when we're not looking and cuddles with our off-limits pillows.

He climbs up on the off-limits kitchen table to watch for us out the window.

He curls up on my off-limits green chair.

He refuses to learn "stay."

Sometimes I just want to yank his tail and cry, "Don't you understand?!  You can't do that!"

But then tips his head sideways and looks at me with those huge brown eyes, ears perked up, and all over his face I read, "I want to please you.  And I love you so much."

Then I remember the way he cuddles in the crook of our bent knees, the way he jumps and twirls in the air, the way he follows me in and out of every room in the house as I tidy, the way his leg kicks when we rub his belly just right, the way he runs with all the energy in the world to greet Preston when he's home from school, the way his legs slide out from under him on our wood floors, the way he raises his eyebrows when he's confused, the way his ears flip inside out and show the caramel color underneath, the way he throws his body across our laps on top of our laptops, reminding us that he's better than anything online.

(On que, please read a note from Sonny himself:               "Aggggggggbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg"

Really, that just happened.)

I remember how much he loves us, despite how mad I get at him, and I feel so blessed to have such a beautiful, cuddly, forgiving dog.

When I was a kid, I would have given anything to get our family dog to sleep with me, but he always wanted to be with my parents.  Now, I have a dog that would give anything to hop in bed with us and I won't let him because my white bedspread means too much.  That memory hit me the other day, and caused me to reevaluate.

Thanks for reminding me what really matters, Sonny Boy.  And welcome to the family.