I love the black hairy grandchildren I've been hanging with for the past couple of weeks. Well, I actually always hang with them but I've been responsible for them, the caretaker, the affection recipient whilst their mommy has been away.
This is why I enjoy the dogs. There is no question of what they want, nor is there any game playing going on. When they need a hug they go for it. Now this is sometimes a bad thing because they don't stop to check what I'm wearing or whether I'm carrying anything before they missile into my personal space. When they decide it's mealtime, clarity is not an issue. As a matter of fact they begin to remind me that dinner time is at 5:00 o'clock by 3:30. Wouldn't want to miss that. They are actually standing guard over the food bin right now, in case there are any squirrel or cat pirates about.
My favorite is when they both want affection. Lola's love language includes toys. An intact toy or even a toy shred will do. Her favorite thing in the world (okay, second favorite after treats) is being chased around the table in an exciting game of keep away. Lily is content only if she is being touched, the closer the better. If she could get her 70 pound body into my front pocket, she'd be very thrilled with that. If we could shrink her and carry her around in a purse, she'd be pretty happy, as long as she had some skin to lick. This love language difference makes for some funny living puzzles. I'll be petting Lola, complimenting her on her toy and suddenly look down and realize that Lily has managed to squeeze Lola out of the picture and slide her head into my hand mid-pat.
Definitely nice to come home to simple, just-the-facts dogs after a long day in the people salt mines.
