I don’t care if I talk about my dog pretty much every day. He is just so special to me. He makes everything better.
I cannot possibly feel down when I watch him rummage through his toy box, looking for today’s chosen favourite. It doesn’t matter what it is, whether a half chewed up stuffed animal with missing eyes and fluff hanging out of a hole where a limb once held everything together, or a dirty old squashed bottle with bite marks all over. He does not judge. He’ll choose whichever he prefers at that moment, and then trot around the apartment with it gripped tightly in his mouth with such happiness and pride, walking into things and falling over as if he’s had a bit too much to drink.
He has no comprehension of politics, war, crime or hate, he just knows that he loves his mum and his toys, he knows that his dinner will be served shortly, then dad will be home, then he gets to go on his walkies.
Every day is the best day ever to him, and what a special animal he is to be able to think that way. 🙂
(Birthmonthday pic from Sunday – he turns/has turned 1 at some point around now)