"She's not my dog. She's YOUR dog." He Doth Protest Too Much
“She’s not my dog. She’s your dog.” I hear this every day at least once from my husband, Scott.
It doesn’t matter that Rory’s tail does circles when Scott comes home from work.
It doesn’t matter that Scott bought her a special harness and leash to use when she goes running with him.
It doesn’t matter that Scott puts table food in her bowl when he thinks I’m not looking.
It doesn’t matter that she snuggles her whole body next to him on the couch at night.
It doesn’t matter that last night he got up from the couch to get a drink from the basement, and Rory stood at the top of the stairs and CRIED until she saw him.
It doesn’t matter that Scott baked her special dog treats from scratch.
It doesn’t matter that he posts more pictures about Rory on Facebook than I do.
She’s my dog. Right. Uh-huh.
Lesson learned: My hubby has a soft spot for Rory - something he never could have predicted before having a dog.



When my husband and I met he had a dog. It didn't take long for the dog to adopt me! I took him for walks and let him sleep on the bed. :)
ReplyDeleteI think you have the pictures to prove it! I like the repetition when listing the evidence that does not matter. Happy slicing!
ReplyDelete