The Course of True Love

Before I've even reached the front door, the noise coming from the sunroom tells me I have a very unhappy dog. The little dachshund is crying and the sound is not just loud but pitiful. When I come around the corner and open the gate, he rushes past me and all I see is a dappled blur.

Seconds later he rushes back, carrying his stuffed lamb, and careens past me and out of sight under the corner table beside the loveseat. There's a flurry of celebratory squeaks – and a low throated growl when the kitten gets too curious – but he won't be coaxed out and when I peer around the loveseat, all I get is a thoroughly baleful look. Clearly, it's my fault he's been separated from his beloved Lambchop all day. No good will come of my pointing out that Lambschop is his toy, ergo, his responsibility. I decide to take the high road.

When I finally convince him to go outside, he takes Lambchop.

When I put down his supper dish, he puts Lambchop down right next to it and eats sparingly, keeping a watchful eye not on his food but on his toy.

After supper and another quick run around the yard – again, with Lambchop – he settles back into his corner niche and falls asleep with Lambchop neatly tucked between his paws. Now and again I hear a muffled squeak and when next I look, he's sleeping with his head resting on the lamb like a pillow and one paw protectively stretched over it.

Before I leave the next morning, I make dead sure that Lambchop is on the right side of the gate.

You should never get in the way of true love.