Today I think my dog, Luna, is beautiful. I think I may have already written a post about how dogs are beautiful, but this post is specifically about Luna. That post could have been about any of the dogs I’ve ever lived with, met, or seen. This post is about this dog. This dog is my soul mate.
We rescued Luna. We don’t know what the first year of her life was like, but we do know that when she came to us she was malnourished, full of worms, and scared to death of everything unfamiliar. She is terrified of any man wearing a hat – including my dad. If you are holding anything remotely weapon shaped, she cringes when you raise it above your waist. My poor poor Luna was likely abused. But then she got free. And somehow ended up at the shelter. Where we happened to see her picture, and fall in love.
Luna has since become the biggest diva in the world. It’s all my fault because I spoil her rotten, but I don’t regret it one bit. She is my dog. When I come home from a short trip to the store, she pees herself out of excitement. She follows me around the house and knows that my hands are the go-to spot for under the table dinner snacks. She sleeps with me, next to me, every night. We share a blanket and even a pillow if she feels like it. She knows when I wake up. She knows what the alarm sounds like. And she knows that when I put my glasses on it means we are getting up. She is my dog.
I love her. I love that she loves me back. I love that she will lay next to me when I’m sick. And sit on my feet when I ask her to. I love that after I taught her to “dance” by standing on her hind legs and twirling around, she does it every time I have food. My Luna is beautiful. Spoiled… but beautiful.