I love our dog, Darla. She brings much joy and fun to our lives. She also is a snuggler when she wants to be, which her mom loves.
But today, Darla feared for her life, and rightfully so.
Every morning, Darla goes out to feed the steers with her dad. Then, she comes in the house. For the past many weeks, her dad lets her back in the house and she runs upstairs and hops back into bed with her mom until her lazy mom decides to roll her sorry-self out of bed for work. However, this morning, dad decided to change it up, and penned her in the kitchen (which is about half the bottom floor of our house, btw) with her toys and didn’t let her back upstairs.
This would all be fine. Except we just came back from Christmas at my parents. Which means there were bags of stuff on the floor. Bags of important stuff. Like presents.
You should know last year for Christmas, Lee got me a ladder. Yes, a ladder. He said he’d redo any room in my house, and I picked the kitchen since that’s where I spend the most amount of time, but he didn’t deliver on that. Therefore, I got a ladder. He was told to do better this year, and he did.
This year for Christmas, I got a set of pearls.
So imagine my surprise when I come downstairs to find my DOG CHEWED MY PEARL NECKLACE INTO 7 ITSY PIECES and my pearl earrings and left the chewed box, and my chewed only pair of black dress shoes, in the middle of the kitchen rug.
Dude, REALLY? Mom can’t have ANYTHING nice! (Some smartass somewhere is saying, well, she couldn’t have chewed the ladder! Don’t be that person. Just don’t. It’s cruel.)
So, tonight, Darla is better. She’s not fearing for her life. . . as much. She is laying in her big ol’ comfy new doggie bed, playing with her Darla-sized LambChop, and occasionally hopping over to the couch to spend quality time with her daddy.
So, for Christmas this year, I got a restrung set of pearls that have been seasoned by Darla, and a story to share with you.