My dog is the biggest pain in the you-know-what any dog can be. He barks incessantly. He whines. He begs. He hops in bed at night and thinks he owns it. He grabs the mail as soon as I lay it down on the kitchen table and somehow chews up only the bills and checks, and leaves behind the credit card offers. If you leave the side door open for just a few seconds too long, he bolts through the crack and disappears for a couple of hours, only to return when he realizes that no one else is going to put up with him and feed him the way we do.
And yet my son loves him. And darn it if they don’t make a great couple. They play all the time. He takes the dog on walks. He throws the Frisbee to the dog, and the dog brings it back. He throws tennis balls across the yard, and the dog chases them down and brings them back. They watch TV together. They sometimes sleep together whenever the dog decides he actually wants to sleep at the same time as the humans in the house – most of the time the dog sleeps during the day when everyone else has stuff to do. When the moon is out, it’s time to howl.
I guess the point is that if my son loves the dog – even with all its faults – then we love the dog, too.
And no, this blog has absolutely nothing to do with trucking – unless you truckers have a dog like mine.