Goldy

I can't believe it.

I think I've "fallen in love" with our dog. It's taken about a two years, but I think it's happened. Oye. Backstory: this stray dog had been taken in by at least three other families in our neighborhood. He didn't play well with other dogs (the other homes all had dogs already) and he was kicked out several times because of it. Our neighbors had taken him in which is where Mermaid first saw him. Then a family across the street took him in. Then while they were in the act of kicking him out, I took him. Mermaid had been asking for a dog for a while.

At first I hated this dog. He kept trying to squeeze in between me and my son whenever I was playing with him. He shat mounds on Mermaid's rug in her room. He wasn't "paper trained" and didn't seem to know a lot of "dog stuff" that dogs usually seem to know. At least, all the dogs *I* knew when I was growing up. He didn't know how to play. He never caught food when you tossed it to him. He lacked "dogness".

And now, he asks to play, to go outside, to go for walks, lets me know when he wants food, loves to lie down where ever I am and he's lately been given permission to get up on the couches (and beds) when one of us is on it, too.

And you know what? I don't WANT to fall in love with another dog. Didn't. Not. It still hurts, twenty years after my beloved collie/golden-mix died in the eighties. I was there when he was put to sleep. (I hate that euphemism)

And here it goes again.