A Dog's Life

My dog Rascal is a Shorkie (shi tzu/yorkie mix), and he is the love of my life (sorry Randy, no offense intended). Three years ago I couldn’t have imagined being this much in love with a little furry creature (Randy’s not all that hairy) and made fun of those people who doted on their dogs, taking them to daycare and showering them with gifts and cleaning up after them. And now here I am with this little bundle of love who sleeps in our bed (in fact, is often in charge of the bed), often moving me right to the edge in his attempt to snuggle as close as possible. I’m pretty sure Rascal knows he’s landed well and is one pampered pooch. But what he doesn’t know is that I’m the lucky one in this relationship. From him I get complete and unconditional love. Someone who’s thrilled to see me when I come home after a long day, even when it’s been a bad one, and who just can’t wait for me to pick him up in my arms and shower him with kisses (again, I’m drawn back to Randy and the way this seems like a negative comparison…not my intent). He’s never happier or more content than when he’s settled into my arms or into his afghan (formerly my chenille throw) on the couch, right at my feet…in fact, right on my feet. Yes, Rascal is really spoiled. He gets chicken stock in his dry food every evening, and all he has to do is woof and Randy is down on the floor rough-housing with him and he goes on adventures with us as often as possible (who knew the hardware store could be such great fun?). But I’m the one who has been blessed by adding him to our family.