It's A Dog's Life

I thought my regular readers (haha) might appreciate a brief, fun (and surprisingly sappy) interlude. Don’t worry, if you prefer my more serious stuff, I have an update of that nature planned for either tomorrow or Saturday.

Today at the grocery store, I bought my dog a new toy. I don’t buy him toys very often because he has a tendency to destroy them in about .5 seconds, pulling out their stuffing and subsequently trying to swallow it, which I assume is bad for him. However, this toy was only 94 cents. I figured, if it’s destroyed before I leave for work, it’s not like a wasted a whole lot of money on it.

Returning home from my shopping trip, I brought in the first bags and put them on the landing in the entryway (our entry leads immediately up a flight of stairs). I went out to get the rest of the groceries, leaving the bags on the landing and the dog at the top of the stairs. When I got back inside, I found the dog still at the top of the stairs, only now he had his new toy in his mouth.

Normally, I would scold him for being a naughty dog & getting in the grocery bags, but he was simply too cute. In fact, instead of scolding, there may have been a hardy dose of laughter. What can I say; I’m weak. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a picture of him there at the top of the stairs, happily wagging his tail with his new toy firmly in grip, but I do have this one:

Showing off his new toy to me

This is the first dog I’ve ever had. It’s been . . . trying at times. A mix of two high-strung breeds, he’s both needy and nervous. There have been days (like when he got scared during a thunderstorm that happened when we weren’t home & peed on the bed) when I wonder if dog ownership is really for me. But there’s something so incredibly compelling about a happy dog. Seriously, look at this picture:

Chilling with me on the couch, watching Sunday Night Football

How can that not warm your heart?

As frustrated as I get sometimes, deep down I know that I’m going to miss the little guy when the inevitable time comes that he won’t be around any longer. So when he gets on my nerves, I’ll try to remember that he has both a tiny brain and thousands of years worth of genetic instinct that he’s operating on. I’ll try to remember to enjoy the couch snuggles and the little happy dance he does every time the husband or I come home, even if we’ve only been gone for five minutes.

And I’ll keep buying new toys because, really, there isn’t much in the world that’s better than a happy dog with a new toy.