When he's bad (which is almost never) and I'm talking to my sister, I will say, "your dog......" and she'll stop me dead in my tracks and say, "no, he's your dog".
And he is. He's been our dog since day one. I'm pretty sure he's happy here - it's hard to tell, but he's content. I know we are thrilled with his presence. We can't imagine life without him.
I kind of chuckle how we have changed our behaviour since his arrival - like how long we can be out, when we go to a movie, when we have to be back from dinner.....all to accommodate his needs. Or our perceived needs for him.
He ain't no cat, that's for sure.
This week has been odd. Somewhat cool for a Summer, but at times it would get hot (especially for a 12 yo dog) and very humid. It made for a lot of lounging about.
I'm finding this year, Petey will go from his bed(s), to the sofa to the floor - just to find the right comfort level.
Location. Location. Location.
He has decided to cut out the middle step. He knows food goes into and come out / off of the oven / stove. It is just best to lie in wait for any dropped food potential.
Another b&w on the sunroom floor.
So two years and many more to come, we hope. I mean, in certain ways I've been with him since he was 8 weeks old, but it's different now. It's all kisses and picking up his poop. I wouldn't change a thing. ...except maybe the poop thing.
Song by: Love & Rockets