Unconditional Love

I love my dog. He is perfect.

He is black, big, eats more than a horse, passes more gas than Chevron and sometimes keeps me up nights snoring.

His bed is at the foot of our bed.

When I first brought Tucker home, the Latin Cowboy was determined not to like him. He had his dog and I had mine. Don’t ask me why or how anybody could not automatically love those over sized feet, and those big eager brown eyes and the little pink tongue that stuck out when he was asleep. They got off to a rough start, Tucker would look at the Latin Cowboy with suspicious eyes and the Latin Cowboy would avoid Tucker.

Tucker is one smart cookie. He watches and learns, he watched the other dogs jump in and out of the truck, he watched them nip and heal the cows, he listened to the whistles and watched them respond. He watched the Latin Cowboy.

He decided he was going to be a cow dog too. Now he spends every day with the Latin Cowboy.

Last night something terrible happened.

I was brushing my teeth. I could hear the Latin Cowboy’s hushed voice and thump thump thump.

Again . . . .

Whisper . . . thump thump thump

I leaned my head out the bathroom door and saw the horror. The Latin Cowboy tapping the bed thump thump thump, “come on Tucker.” He was trying to get my dog to jump into my bed!

Apparently only one of them realized what kind of danger they were in.

“No dogs on the bed!” I screeched (I am sure it did not sound pretty, part of it I think only Tucker could hear). I do not share my bed with a 90 pound methane producing machine or any other dog! I love my bed it is my sanctuary.

Tucker sat paws firmly planted on the ground, his chin lightly resting on the blankets his big brown eyes smiling at the Latin Cowboy, you’re in trouble now buddy (totally unfazed by by screeching, he knows better).

I love my dog. He is perfect.

The Latin Cowboy loves him too. The Latin Cowboy might need a little more training.