Thursday, August 25, 2016
Today I am grateful for lap dogs. Seventy-five pound lap dogs! We have babysat for some of the tiniest dogs, with our grand-dog, Winnie, weighing in at maybe two pounds. I can’t get her to stay on my lap for two seconds.
Enter Leonard. Seventy-five pounds of pure love. Only for a baby-cakes like this would I allow a picture to be taken of me in my nightgown, barely awake, sporting total bedhead, without so much as lipstick on. Animals don’t care. That’s the true beauty of a pet. Be at your worst and they love you even more.
When Leonard wants to crawl. . .and I mean crawl. . .into your lap, you just let him. . .and you have to have a picture of it because not even you believe it. I thought he would hurt me when he got sick of it (I was too warm and/or I stopped petting, not sure which) but no, he just slid off the same way he had crawled on. He’s like a Slinky without the metal coil.
What a love-bug. He follows Himself around with a look on his face that says, “You do know they starve me at my house! How about another cookie?” Of course, he gets one. He doesn’t slobber, not even when he’s watching ham being cut at the table. He just sits there, patiently hopeful for a strong wind to blow something off. Himself is a strong wind.
As I have with each rental animal, I worry that they will not feel at home. Hahahahaha! Guess the word is out that we are beyond softies. Good thing they are picking him up tomorrow night. That is if we’re home. And haven’t fled the country. With a big, yellow, lap dog! Oh, Leonard!