Having an eight-months old dog means there’s no way our house can look reasonably tidy. There are cherry tomatoes all over the bed, twigs and pebbles buried in the cushions on the sofa, half-eaten treats, badly abused dog toys and shredded leaflets in every single room. Brian is energetic and curious. Everything even vaguely chewable needs to be chewed, the best chewable toys make a lot of noise (plastic bottles, the cats’ toys) or can be returned back to the particle stage of their existence (loo rolls, paper towels). He’s experimenting and it takes a lot of time to explain to him that some toys are not toys at all.
He loves Charlie and Charlie seems to be extremely patient with him. I’m mainly exhausted – trying to incorporate Brian’s training into my rather busy schedule. And I’m happy. Picking up remains of things I can’t recognise, vacuuming yet again, constantly checking if things that really should not be eaten are out of Brian’s reach I can’t stop smiling. He’s young and full of life, he drives me crazy and, paradoxically, keeps me sane.
And then, my sweet little Lily gives me cuddles and kisses, makes sure that no matter what I do I’m not alone, brings me a hedgehog or two to hold for her while she’s chewing on it. She looks at me understandingly, as if to say: ‘some dogs are SO stupid’. And being a reasonable (and very clever) girl she’s carries on being mischievous as soon I’m duped into trusting her.
There are many things in life that I wish I had more of (sleep, time, patience). But love is plentiful here – and love makes my world go round.