We have a thief in our midst.
He (she?) is bold, brazen, acts in broad daylight, and has no remorse whatsoever. This nefarious & slightly gender-ambiguous bandit swoops in at all hours of the day, nabs whatever he/she desires from our yard, and then quickly takes off with their spoils. It seems to have a particular affinity for dog toys (stuffed one, ideally), but has been known to attempt to make off with rubber squeaky toys as well. I am not sure what he/she does with everything it takes, but I can say for certain that I doubt he is donating the toys to other, more ‘needy’ neighbourhood dogs.
I managed to capture the culprit
red black handed. BEHOLD!
Oslo and Jersey want their toys back, Crow!! You’d better watch your back the next time to come into our yard; Xyla is lurking!
My dogs follow me everywhere.
It is endearing, validating, and heart-warming at the best of times… At the worst of times it is irritating, frustrating and harassing.
I love that they love me so much. I love that they seen me as their leader, they goddess, they protector and provider-of-all-things-good. They love with with a love that is close to worship; unconditional and infallible. No matter what my mood, what my hair looks like, what my breath smells like– they love me. I’m fairly certain that no other creature on earth is capable of loving me quite to the depths that my dogs do. So I am thankful, and humbled, and awe-struck.
However, sometimes I have to admit… Their devotion and love and ABSOLUTENEEDTOALWAYSBENEARME is maddening! I can’t tell you how many times I day I trip over a dog, or find myself waiting a moment for a dog to get out of my way. Sometimes I wonder if I were to add all the seconds and minutes up- how long of my life I would spend ‘waiting’ for a dog to step out of my way, or follow me out of a room so I can close the door. I couldn’t even being to tell you how many curse words leave my lips because the dogs have, in some way or another, inconvenienced me with their unending need to worship & be near me.
Cynics would say that they don’t TRULY love me. That they aren’t even capable of love. That they are simply using me. They know that I give them treats and physical affection… so they are hanging near until they get their next hand out. It has nothing to do with true dedication or “love”. Maybe the cynics are right– who knows. I have never been much of a cynic myself.
I prefer to believe that they love me like I love them. As irritating, and harassing, and inconvenient as it can occasionally (often!) be.
How lucky am I that I get to look at these two adorable, perfect faces every day?