There’s something about having someone that cares for you that is just….like a grilled cheese, tomato soup, and a thick quilt on a cold winter day. Don’t get me wrong, Hubby and I have our problems, and yes, you only get my philandering side of the story….But I do love him. Genuine love. It’s sort of like that wants vs. needs decision. Do you want it or do you need it? I want GC but I need Hubby. And before you judge, Hubby is no saint. Never has been. It was HIS indiscretion that led me to wear that Scarlet A. (See my Pretty Little Fool post for my part and don’t worry, you’ll get his eventually).
Anyway, two nights ago, I was perched on our couch after dinner and Hubby was just settling in as well. He turned to look at me and his expression was curious to me. It was like confusion mixed with intrigue mixed with a little, “I need that on me, NOW.” I asked him why he was staring at me. He simply said, “I can’t figure out why I need you so much.” I brushed the sentiment off as his attempt to get me in the sack. Yes, I am aware that you, as readers, understand that I love sex. I just normally need a little shove sometimes.
What made me remember that moment was a little Poodle interaction. Hubby was off to work and uncharacteristically, Mini-Me slept in. I was in bed, cuddled up in all the pillows and covers when my male standard poodle came and jumped up on the bed in Hubby’s spot.
Samson is my baby. He was my first dog ever purchased outside my parents’ home. He’s about 60 lbs and waaaay too smart for his own good. A cream colored, 60 pound, Standard Poodle psychologist. Yep. Anytime I’m upset or mad, he’s the first one on the scene to investigate. Many people say that dogs are dogs. They don’t understand English. Hubby is one of them. This is one of our continuous arguments. I can say to Samson, “Go in yonder.” (yes, that is Southern for, Leave the room.) and he will. He is, for all practical purposes, my defender. If Hubby and I engage in horse-play, Samson is not okay with it. He’ll break up the party if he witnesses shenanigans. We bought him when I was in college. I waited tables to pay the bills and he was my splurge. I wanted a dog…a dog that didn’t shed. I wanted a big dog…one that was trainable. I saw his mom in the local pet shop and fell in love. Hubby agreed and for the next four weeks, my Waffle House tips paid for him. I got him at 5 weeks old (young, I know). But the owner of Momma Dog knew I would take care of him because of my daily payments and visits to the litter. So, long story, WAY short, he has a bond with me. He’s okay with Hubby, but he’s my protector.
A year or so after getting him, we decided he needed a companion. Hubby was adamant that this was not okay. By this time, Hubby and I were married officially and living back in our small town. I commuted to my insurance world five days a week, a 3 hour daily drive, 52 weeks a year…Sir Samson of Troy was lonely. He was missing Momma and Hubby just wasn’t filling that void. So, we (I) found another Standard Poodle in a semi-neighboring town. She (Lady Delilah Isabelle), was perfect for him. She was smart and beautifully black. Her coat is like silk. They got along swimmingly. He was Daddy Dog and she was Momma Dog. Because I worked so far from home, Hubby took the reigns in training her. So, naturally, she became a Daddy’s girl. She has always had an affinity for Hubby. When Mini-me came along, she has become Mini-me’s dog. That 40″ tall, 39 pound little girl can do whatever she wants with either dog and they acquiesce. Mini-me is apparently a Dog Whisperer.
Samson and Delilah’s relationship has evolved into an old married couple. The similarities in their relationship and Hubby/My relationship is a little ironic. Delilah is the care-giver. She cleans his eyes and face with big wet sloppery kisses, stands watch over the yard and Mini-me, and cuddles with Samson when he’s not okay. Samson eats, sleeps, kills varmin (we live in the South ya’ know?), and…well, sniffs Delilah’s back-end. LOL!
Samson and Delilah
Back to this morning, they’re both fixed…and older. 9 and 8 respectively. So no instinct is kicking in, or is it? Samson is laying on the bed in Hubby’s spot. Delilah joins us and worms her way between us so she can get some love from me too. She settles in and we’re a big, furry, cuddling mess. Samson raises his head, stands up on the bed, turns around and sniffs Delilahs backside. FOR.A.LONG.TIME. Why? What is he going to do with it? Then, he nudges her with his nose to try to get her to play. She rebuffs him, snuggling her head further into the comforter. He tries again. She growls at him this time, “Let me sleep man!” He tries one more time. She lays in silence. Her eyes didn’t even move this time. He puppy-huffs and lays down at the foot of the bed.
I guess the irony in this for me is that, there’s a reason some women call men Dogs. He is fixed and so is she…but he’s still gotta bark up that tree. Can’t do anything with it, but he wants to be near it. She is clearly sleeping, and he’s rap-tap-tapping at her door. Then he resigns himself to a nap…his attempts at play…or whatever…ignored. Many times, this happens with Hubby and myself–on both sides. Sometimes, I want to play and he growls at me. Sometimes, he wants to play and I keep my eyes closed, body motionless, so as not to hurt his feelings.
Eventually Delilah had to go outside to potty. She played with him this time. In the cool air, a barking, grumbling, cluster of Poodlicious fur rolling in the grass waking up the neighborhood. And now, Samson is laying next to her on the floor at my feet. Their noses are touching. I don’t care what anyone says, dogs do get married and settle down. 😀
So, now Mini-me and I are off to buy groceries for the next week. Then the big football game tonight. Alabama versus LSU. So very nervous. I will not make predictions. I will not talk smack. I will stuff my face and drink heavily. LOL! Roll Tide!
Diary of a Dirty Domestic Goddess 