The black dog and I are down for life.
We had a lot of quality time this weekend, as my usual partner in crime was out of town, on an “educational” trip.
I won’t repeat all of the slightly embarrassing conversations I had with that dog. Let’s just say we are masters of communication using very few actual words. Like, conversations that were longer than 5 minutes. (Lonely, much?) It was a bit ridiculous and we’re both just glad there weren’t any witnesses. (I’m getting closer to being the crazy dog lady, the slightly goofier, more vocal version of the crazy cat lady.)
There were some pretty sweet moments mixed in with the ridiculousness, though. When I first adopted the black dog, he was in no way, shape, or form a lover. Hugs were scary. Baths were invented by the devil. Snuggle? That ain’t happenin’.
He’s coming around finally. (Our other dog back home was the same way. Not big on the lovin’s.) We took a lovely nap together, and he didn’t even get up and leave when I snuggled up next to him. It was pretty sweet. And, here’s the real shocker:
he put his head on my arm like a pillow. Awww….
Yeah, I probably love that dog more than most people I meet. But, he’s never once left me (except that time we had to remind him that we’re his family.) He’s loyal and goofy and silly and sweet and brave and scary. I might be a tiny bit biased, but he’s pretty much the best. dog. ever.