Tiny Coconut

I have things.

Friday, November 03, 2006

A Boy And His Dog

One of the amazing things that has happened in this house over the past six months is the relationship that N and Snug have built with one another.

There's the classic boy-and-his-dog stuff, of course. N's too young at five (and too small, being the size of someone younger than his actual age) to handle a dog that outweighs him by probably close to 20 pounds now, so he doesn't get to walk the dog. But they do romp around together in our backyard. A particular favorite game is for me to pitch balls for N to hit, and have Snug play "outfielder"--which means he retrieves the balls that N hits, as well as the ones he misses, and brings them back to me. It's adorable.

But even cuter is the downtime these two spend together. N spends the first hour or so of almost every day after school, the time between kindy dismissal and upper-grade dismissal, curled up on our window seat by our front picture window, thumb in mouth, head on Snug's middle, rubbing Snug's fur the way he has always played with my hair...for comfort. He'll seek Snug out at other times, as well, when he just needs to chill out a little.

N was having a particularly difficult day yesterday: He was cranky and obstinate, and pushing all of Em's buttons, causing a constant flow of bickering between them. After a couple of hours of non-stop obnoxiousness, I excused myself and went upstairs for about half an hour, leaving the two of them to fight it out over their computer in the family room.

This is what I found when I returned to my desk, next to which Snug's doggie bed is crammed. (It's the spot Snug claimed as his own within weeks of joining our family, so we made it more comfortable for him, despite the inconvenience for me, since this is where all my files and papers are kept.) What got me, aside from the exquisite cuteness of my boy laying atop his dog, was the fact that Snug was clearly awake, clearly not as comfortable as he'd like to be...and CLEARLY not going to move unless forced to.

Of course, when you're a Labrador, the rustle of a paper bag--food, food, food, could that be food?--is the equivalent of being forced by gunpoint to get up, so after I'd taken the above picture and gone into the kitchen to prepare dinner, Snug apparently wiggled out from underneath his sleepy buddy. Not hearing N complaining about Snug's absence, I returned to my desk and the doggie bed to see this:

All I can say is that I'm glad I wash that cover frequently. Oh, and that I'm so so so glad that Snug came into our lives.

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