I've mentioned before how I always knew I wanted to be a writer, but--thanks to worshipping James Harriot growing up--I also thought I could be a vet. Animals have always been an important part of my life. In fact, there has never been a period of time in my life that I haven't had a dog. My parents had dogs, and when I moved out of their house and on my own at eighteen, the first thing I went out and got was...no, not furniture...but a dog. He was a wild mop of a dog who liked to sleep on my pillow and pee on the pizza man, and--looking back--I can't imagine making it through those hellish, hyper-turmoil years without his cuddling and silent love.
This week, something special began emerging regularly between the boys and our dog. Maybe it's because she's allowed around them more (as they are tall enough now she doesn't run them over) and they are old enough to understand why they can't poke her in the eyes.
They are all beginning to bond. It's an amazing thing to watch now that I'm watching.
I got hooked on this prison show a while back where inmates were given a rescued dog from the pound to turn into a service dog. I fell hard for this show as I watched man and beast melt under the power of unconditional love. It was amazing, not only watching how the attention turned the dog around, but how it opened up the possibilities for hope in the men that grew to care about them.
I'm hoping that's the lesson being given and taken as my boys discover man's best friend.
Here's a great example:
A moment of time-out transformed into heaven for both parties.
Oh, and this may be cheating, but since this peace and bonding at our house this week was the highlight of my week, I'm using it as my weekly F-U-N posting!
198,000 words. Am I dead from the get-go?
11 hours ago