In Dog We Trust

Anyone who knows me knows I adore my dogs. In that endearing, yet annoying crazy dog lady way. Life revolves around them. It’s ALL about the doggos 24/7.

I went shopping today. The mind immediately conjures up images of a small blonde lady drifting amongst shoe stores and perfume counters. Staggering out of ‘Karen Millen’ nursing a haemorrhaging Mastercard. It happens. Not today however. Today I indulged in my other, less publicised shopping habit.

This kind of shopping expedition is called “Things for the fur kids”. Just between us, I get more of a kick out of that than a sojourn to Louboutin. Trust me, that’s a deliriously happy place to be and a BIG call to make. Having joyful, healthy, snazzily attired dogs means more than any pair of heels. Because they are my family and the most precious things I have.

I was married for sixteen somewhat inglorious years (don’t mention the war), which meant cohabiting with my other half. Now I ‘live alone’. Or that is how society sees my situation. A household of one. I perceive my living arrangements as a household of four. One human and three furry children. There are meal times, play times, walk times, bed times and inevitably…. telling off for ‘being a little sh*t’ times. (Generally they don’t recognise that last one and just sit there looking pleased with their handiwork). There are no arguments, no lies, no affairs, no put downs, no yelling and no disappointments. They trust me. I trust them.

I will never be bitter about where I have come from in life because, without sounding all trite, it got me to where I am now. The future is always an unknown, but the present has three happy fur babies in it. That’s pretty marvellous from where I am sitting. Figuratively speaking. Physically, I am sitting balancing a Pomeranian on my lap who snores VERY loudly. (God forbid I should move my legs and disturb the delicate slumbers of ‘Diva’).

Each of my dogs has their own story of how they came to be mine. Those tales are yet to be brought to you by the wonderful world of blogging. Two out of three had difficult lives and have now landed on all four paws. Both often look at me in a heart breaking way that says ‘thank you’. It’s quid quo pro. I saved them and they saved me.

Today’s haul was doggie do bags, 1kg of dried (Aussie) chicken necks and three matching walking harnesses/vests. It’s a design I like that’s safe and Diva has…. ahem….. ‘outgrown’ her original one. (She is possessed of a somewhat healthy appetite). I leave you with Bunny’s thoughts on her new vest, which will be remaining in the cupboard for now. They say a picture tells a thousand words.

Harness was taken off and behold.

Bunny may be little but she knows her own mind. She was most certainly not walking in THAT. Madame lay down like she’d been shot until I removed the offending garment. That’s part of the deal of being a Pomeranian parent. You live to serve. 😉