Anybody who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog.

This is a post a did for my mom's blog in July, but instead of writing a new post to introduce the marshmellow in my smore, I'll repost it here!

Jason and I have a dog. Ok, well when I say “we” have a dog, it really means, Jason has a dog. He paid for her, pays for her vet bills, and pays for her food. I am more like the fun Aunt who brings toys and lets her drink beer behind his back.
When we brought her home it was the week of Thanksgiving 2008. I had a 10 day vacation from work and couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more, than spend those cool fall days inside cuddling up with a 7 pound, all white, cute as a button, bulldog.
The first hour she was home I just watched her waddle around the yard and took pictures like I was Anne Geddes. She fell in the leaves with her wobbly footing, and I fell in love. A few hours went by like a few minutes, she melted my heart.
Overnight, the honeymoon came to a screeching halt.
I try to repress the memory of her first night with us because if I let it into consciousness I’m not sure she would still be part of our lives (Just kidding! though, if you told me that following morning that we could give her back with no repercussions, she would have been out of there faster than me at a tractor pull)

But don’t worry, I now love this pooch more than a fat kid loves cake.

Her name is Stella and this her first summer. She is spunky 8 month old and she has picked up quite a hobby. Mud. Yes, wet dirt. I don’t know what it is about this dog, but she rolls around in mud like I dream of rolling around in mashed potatoes, or mint chocolate chip ice-cream. And I don’t mean she runs through it or simply lays down to cool off. I mean, when she emerges, you would think she had been in the trenches at war. So dirty, I wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a line up. The rolling is then followed by frantic sprints in circles, which I think are purely to gain enough speed to perform the perfect belly flop, right back in the swampy hole she came from. It is like a drug to her, and I’m not sure we will ever be able to detox her, and this quote shows exactly why we would never try.
“He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.”

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