I Want To Be The Dog

An oft-heard refrain around our house is, “I want to be the dog!” She does have it pretty good. Saminda (Sam) is sleeping or lounging about 20 hours a day. She prefers to do so on high thread count sheets (so I had to buy those for all the beds, not just the Mommy-Daddy bed) and to rest her furry head on an orthopedic pillow. Since I refuse to buy her one of her own she has to wait for my alarm to go off at 3:15 am before she can lay claim to mine. There has been some heavy dog-sighing over this. She is waiting on the sofa when I get home from work, all four paws in the air, obviously thinking, “Oh, thank God you’re home – I REALLY need a belly rub!” She weighs more than she should, but when you cover it all with soft, shiny, brown fur it still looks quite attractive. Maybe I should ask Santa for a fur coat for Christmas? Oh, and everyone in the family constantly tells her how wonderful she is and how much we love her. We don’t expect her to do anything productive, like pull a sled, herd cattle, or retrieve fowl. It’s enough that she’s happy to see us when we come home. Yeah, I want to be the dog. (picture by Jack, by the way)

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