Thursday, January 5, 2012

A day in the life of Dog Rescue

I rescue dogs. My dogs are with me pretty much everywhere I go. In the morning, after they are let out to potty and fed, they settle once I sit down, ever ready to accompany me as I wander through the house. They are there when I decide I really need coffee, walking at my heels, staring up at me adoringly, except for Capone, who I am convinced, really just wants some food. I have learned to shuffle as to avoid paws and I walk slowly so no one gets left behind.

 I make several trips from my computer to my kitchen, refilling my coffee cup and trying to avoid spilling it while I herd my gaggle of dogs back through the maze that is my home. The dogs looking up at me adoringly, except for Capone, who I am pretty sure just really wants some food. This goes on all day, to the kitchen, to the washer, they even invade the bathroom.
 Anytime I stop moving for a few moments, they lay at my feet or sit nearby, looking at me adoringly, well, except for Capone of course. It makes me feel loved, needed, paranoid I might accidentally step on one and create a large vet bill for myself.
 It is pretty easy to start thinking of yourself as pretty damn special. I mean ALL the dogs want to be near me ALL the time. They want to lay at my feet, go with me when I leave, keep me company as I do dishes and guide me around the furniture every time I move. I must be a DOG GODDESS!! I am Worshiped and Adored!!!
Then reality hits. I drop a lot of food, that is not adoration, that is hunger.

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