A Girl and Her Dog (Complicated) Love Story

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One of my most loved photographs ever hangs in our family room over the mantelpiece. It's from the days when our group of five (hound included) was packed into a one-room loft, where my little girl assumed control over the room with her domineeringly terrible dozing propensities and my better half and I wound up moving into the family room. Canine and child kid rested in whatever corner we could discover for them.

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The photograph was taken on our little deck, and it's of my girl Alice – perhaps over two at that point – sitting close to our pooch Wynette, embracing the puppy's head with a look of unadulterated love all over. Wynette is serene, content, and the tip of her tongue is marginally obvious. She was licking Alice's face at that point, yet it wasn't the high-speed "I'm doing this as opposed to gnawing you" wild eyed drool she some of the time participates in when Alice is doing what little children do to hounds. No, this was a quiet, sweet motion, and Alice was snickering. They were both about as peaceful as they get, which is the main explanation I circumspectly stepped back long enough to snap the picture.

BBut here's the thing about that shot: It's sort of a falsehood.

They don't associate that way, with the exception of on extremely uncommon events when the stars have adjusted perfectly, and them two have accomplished a specific inward harmony. For a baby, tranquility of any sort can be rare, and for a little child's canine, genuine peacefulness is a ware in shorter gracefully than the feline crap and chicken bones they need so seriously.

Alice, being an enchanting yet unpredictable and tyrant three-year-old, hasn't made life simple for her pooch since her emotional appearance over three years back. She's snatched Wynette's tail, pressed her ears and paws, pushed her, even licked and nibbled her. Her preferred move for some time was the abrupt, drive-by slap she'd dispense with no reasonable thought process. The canine is, in like manner, to some degree apprehensive, or in any event profoundly watchful. She lurks away when Alice thuds down close to her on the lounge chair and withdraws to security when her three-foot-tall overlord gets an Africanized honey bee in her bonnet.Deep down, however, they do cherish one another (or, as Alice would state, "we love our chuthers"). It's a confounded love, however on the other hand, when is love simple? On the off chance that you strip away some surface-level contrasts – they're various species, for one – they really have an amazing number of likenesses.

They have both sniffled so hard that they've hit their head on the ground. The two of them love cheddar and bread. The two of them express their neurotic side by running fiercely around a room, crushing everything in their way. They love schedules, solaces, and consistency. The two of them love being outside and getting foul messy. They make me and my better half chuckle profound, tear-delivering stomach snickers. They are benevolent, sweet, and they are totally real consistently. They play hard, they buckle down, and they love hardest of all.

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