When I saw the prompts from Kat Bouska for this week, I just knew I was going to write about Sweet Husband and how lucky I am to be married to him. I mean, it was going to be perfect because I was feeling especially gooey after a weekend where he knocked himself out in the Best Husband in the World game.
Then I heard the Bourbon doggie crying because his daddy was gone, and I knew then that my post was going to have to be about a boy and his dog – truly the most epic love story you may have ever heard.
I mean – just look at them. Could anything possibly be sweeter? That boy loves his dog, and his dog loves him.
About two and a half years ago, an acquaintance of mine posted on Facebook that she needed to find a home for her Olde English Bulldogge – her two boys had severe allergies (which were hell to diagnosis) and under no circumstances could they keep the dog, as much as it broke their hearts to give him up. They had tried to re-home Wheels at least once (but for some reason I’m thinking twice) and the people brought him back. I guess they didn’t realize that a massive bulldogge drooled, and in his previous mommy’s words, “Smells like feet.” If she couldn’t find a home for him, she was going to have to take him to the shelter, which she didn’t want to do. She didn’t want any money for him – even though they paid dearly for him when he was a puppy – just to know that he was going to a good home.
So I sent SH, who was away for the weekend on a bachelor party, a message and asked him if he wanted a bulldog.
The immediate, no questions asked answer was yes.
When I told him that Wheels had arthritis in his back knees and might require a $70/month shot to alleviate his pain…every month for the rest of his life…SH didn’t even blink.
“I want him.”
So we got him.
And our lives haven’t been the same since.
Yes, he drools.
And yes, the drool is disgusting.
Yes, he smells like feet.
And yes, when he has eaten something he shouldn’t have, he can run you out of the house – the stench is that bad. I thought I knew what gassy doggies smelled like, but I didn’t.
When Wheels came home to us, we changed his name to Bourbon Pecan. We have a theme with our pet names – there was the Peach cat (who was not peach but when she was a tiny kitten was fuzzy like a peach), there is the Blackberry kitteh (her of the tiny size and the one eye), and there is the Cobbler (my sweet, sweet black lab). “Wheels” didn’t quite fit, so SH decided on Bourbon Pecan – because you can make a bourbon pecan sauce for on top of things like bread pudding.
And because SH (& me, let’s be honest) loves bourbon.
Bourbon has settled into our family quite nicely.
He is, however, SH’s dog…kinda like my Cobbie is SH’s dog (even though I had her for years before he & I even started dating) and Blackberry kitteh is his kitteh (just like Cobbie). This puppy is happiest when he is either right next to or on top of SH. In fact, when SH is stretched out on the couch, Bourbon’s most favorite place to be is right between SH’s legs.
You’ve never heard anything like the whining and crying that happens when Bourbon wants to be near his daddy and he can’t.
(mad because he’s not right next to Dad)
If we are out in the yard and Bourbon is with us but on his lead (so not right next to us), he screams and makes such an awful racket. If we leave and he can’t come with us, he jumps up at the back door, furious.
Let SH be gone and have Bourbie stuck with me? He’ll sit at the back door of the house, forlorn and pathetic until SH returns home.
The truth is that SH feels the same way about Bourbon. If Bourbie’s first mommy sends me a message checking on him, SH’s immediate response is, “She CAN’T HAVE HIM BACK! He’s MY DOG!!!” Even though he knows that Bourbie can’t go back because his little boys are allergic to him.
I can’t tell you the number of times SH has said to me, “I’ve never had a dog that was just mine. That I love like I love this dog. This boy is all mine.”
Yes, SH, yes he is.
And because you love him and he loves you, I put up with a house covered in dog drool and that smells like gym shoes that should have been thrown out years ago. I can deal with the tiny, wiry hairs that get painfully lodged in my feet.
Because every boy should have a dog to love and who loves him.
What’s your epic love story?
Where I’m Linking Up today.