Thursday, February 6, 2014

The Dog is My Master

My fur child has my heart. And here's why....

he starts his day by bounding into our bed at 6:45 a.m, nuzzles his way up the length of my body, and eventually ends up on his back where he expectantly waits for you to give him a belly rub...

his whole body wiggles when he sees me coming through the door..

and he always brings me something to greet me after a hard day's work...

he loves me when I give him his food....

and even more when we go to play with his ball.....

he is a big dog trapped in a small dogs body and always finds a way to cuddle up on the couch next to me, knowing full and well he shouldn't be up there...

but, he has these eyes. These big pouty, chocolate colored, round puppy eyes. He gives them to me all the time. Sadly, I'm not strong enough to resist them. They melt me. They make me feel like he is piercing my soul. Lord help me!

It's even more sad he has these eyes because he knows he rules me. He thinks he is my master and I live for him. "Why of course he should be on my couch". And "absolutely I want to give him table scraps". And my personal favorite, "what would I want to do more than play ball with you in the pouring down rain."  Ohh my internal agony. As a result, my house is usually filled with 25 balls waiting to be stepped on, muddy dog prints that take basically a commercial mop to get up, drool covering most of the places we try to eat, and dog hair in almost every place imaginable. Sometimes I even wonder why I waste my time cleaning knowing it's just gonna be a disaster come the next round of puppy eyes.


But look at those eyes. How could anyone resist? Melts my heart. Always has, always will.

I've been duped,
Taylor

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