I’m thinking you’ll agree on this one.
We have allowed some strange habits to become standard modes of operation at our house, and most of them have to do with the assortment of critters we’ve accumulated.
We just figure “why not” for the most part, and continue to be as accommodating as possible for everyone’s needs.
Things like everyone has a “cozy spot” they like best and everyone likes to get their food in a certain place and time and just the basic things you do to try and keep the peace and a little happiness at home.
All that said, I want to be sure and say how much I love this show of affection before anyone takes it the wrong way, like criticism.
Because it’s not.
Also, some who know my better half only as “that gruffy old reporter,” who I also call Gruffy by the way, might just be a little surprised with this story.
I’ve known for quite some time now how attached he is to one certain little Chihuahua our friend Joanie bequeathed to us years ago.
But I didn’t see anything like this coming. I knew he’d treat her well and help take care of her and all the basic things, but never in a million years did I expect the attachment that has happened.
Oh, I’m accustomed to the petting and the attention he gives her and the way he keeps a special eye out for the feisty little thing she is.
And this certainly isn’t to say I don’t treat her well, but really, it’s nothing like how Gruffy does.
They have their every morning pet and hug ritual at the kitchen table; she demands it, and he caves.
All this, even though I’m the resident “feedbag” of the household 99 percent of the time.
And then, upon his arrival home at night, it gets started all over again, and I’ll refrain from repeating the conversations they have, that might be just a bit too embarrassing for the gruffy old reporter.
All this is more than bearable of course, and really, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
But the story that took place last night, well…I’ll let you decide.
Being the one who’s usually bed bound first at night, the bed pets trickle in one or two at a time behind me to get their “places.”
Everyone but this south of the border breed is big enough or agile enough to hop in on their own.
She’s usually the last one to arrive, and I’m usually still awake when I hear her whimpers circling the bed that she can’t quite reach.
That’s when I call out for Gruffy and alert him that it’s time to put his dog to bed, I can’t reach her without just about completely getting out myself.
So I call out to him last night and let him know “it’s time,” and in he comes, calls his little pal, finds her and scoops her up into the bed into her favorite spot on his pillow.
She waits there until he comes to bed, then she burrows down into his side of the electric blanket which is always turned on several notches higher than my side.
Anyway, last night I saw something I’d never seen happen before.
I really don’t care if I embarrass him or not, and really, being married to me as long as he has now, he ought to be used to it, right?
Before leaving the room, he reached down and patted his pup on the head and gave her a little peck, too.
Of course I assumed I would be next…
Nope, off he went to continue watching his ongoing attachment to CNN.
“Hey!” I called out….”Forget someone??”
We both laughed. He didn’t even realize he’d done it.
That’s one oversight I don’t mind enduring at all.
And really, I can’t imagine a life with anyone who didn’t do things like this.
One of my mother’s bits of advice on what I’ll call the guy thing went something like this…”Be wary of anyone who isn’t kind to animals…”
I took her at her word. And I’m glad I did.