The Things We Do For Love

Years ago I got an e-mail that said something along the lines of “You can tell dog-owners who truly love their pets. You’ll see them standing in the rain, holding an umbrella over their dog.” If I knew who said this, I’d totally credit them, because plagiarism is NOT cool. But I don’t. So, sorry.

I’ve been thinking about that post often. Especially when I’m out in the drizzly rain with my dogs. The girls HATE getting wet. Charlie LOVES it. In fact, he goes foraging through the highest grasses he can find to get even more wet.

Back on point. I was once again spending too much time reading Jen Lancaster’s archives when Layla came and put her head on the couch beside me. Nala had the other end of the couch and I had my legs stretched out, taking up one foot of space between the back of the couch and the seat. Apparently Layla thought this space should be hers. She tries really hard to be subtle.

Here I am, innocently reading on the laptop. Layla sits on the floor and stares at me. Typically, this means she needs to go O-U-T (must spell, even in type, otherwise I will be obligated to actually take her o-u-t- because she can spell. And read, apparently. With her x-ray vision, since she’s on the other side of the computer and not looking over my shoulder.) Anyway, moving on. Then she walks around the coffee table so she’s now sitting a foot further away than she was five seconds ago. She stares at the empty spot on the couch. I pat it, inviting her up. She pouts. I snap and point and command her to get on the couch (sometimes an invite is not enough. You have to demand she sit next to you and allow you to pet her. She has this act down, trust me.) Does she get up on the couch? No. She moves a foot closer so she’s in the same spot she was when we started this paragraph. She then puts her head on my wrist. Awe, cute. Petting ensues. Until I must scroll on Jen’s page to continue reading.

The moment my hand leaves her head, she puts her head UNDER the computer, which as been comfortably resting on my lap, and tries to FLIP it out of my lap. For real. Subtlety just flew out the window. (But first she had to open the window, since our classy (Read: NOT) neighbors are smoking SO much outside that I had to close ALL the windows in our ENTIRE apartment).

It’s only after she tried to sabotage my Jen-reading time that I realize what she wants. I move my legs and she jumps up on the couch, curls up precisely where my legs had been and falls asleep with her head on my ankle.

I can’t even be frustrated, she’s so darn cute. Also? I’m still a bit damp from holding the umbrella over the girls on our final walk of the night.

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