mabeline.

30 May
I like my dog.  Love her?  Maybe.
Not that I haven’t before this point, but Mabel and I have perhaps grown on each other.
I remember the first week she came to live with me and I thought I had made the biggest mistake of my life.  I suddenly had to think about someone else’s schedule and become less selfish in my day to day living.  And then she started pooping in the house and I didn’t like her much for it.
We’ve both adjusted.  While in the first weeks, Mabel would wake up by 6:30 each morning, now she will easily let me sleep until 8 – even 9:30 – if I have the chance.  Sometimes she’ll even put herself to bed earlier in the night if I’m not ready to go upstairs yet.  We have a system down in regards to couch sitting.  I sit on the left; she takes the right.  Sometimes she gets sick of the couch all together and opts for the loveseat with throw pillows; she just awkwardly lays on top of them all, fighting a losing battle.
Then there was her run away phase.  Perhaps we’ve moved beyond that too, at least slightly.  We’ve gotten into the habit of getting a treat upon coming inside so of course – who would run away if there was a treat on the other side of the door?  You’d be a fool to run and see the neighbors when the other option is a minty bad breath fighting bone.
And, well, she’s just pretty darn cute.  She costs me a lot of money between food and boarding and $1.50 special treats, and she requires a lot of cleaning up after [much hair on floor and everywhere].  But she loves ice cubes and eats raw broccoli if given the opportunity.  And she’s pretty damn funny when it comes time to throw a ball; it’s like she is all of a sudden a total puppy again.  Plus, it’s pretty great to have someone to greet upon getting home; I call her my sweetie-pie-honey-bunch.  
Maybe it’s Mabeline. I like her alright.  
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