My heart is made of puppies.

I have dogs. A small boy dog came into my life in August of last year. He’s a snorting, snoring, snuffling little flat face. I mean, the poor guy looks like he’s struggling to live.

 He could never survive in the wild. He has dainty little cat feet and is pretty much the strangest dog ever. He’s incredibly sweet and almost freakishly devoted to me, he loves everyone and I can count the number of times he’s barked on my hands. He sits and licks his paws and wipes his face with them. He will sit like a human and scratch his poor empty ball sack with a tiny paw. I think possibly he learned this behaviour from watching Husband do it. He also tries to wee in the toilet if we ever leave the door open, but being 9 inches off the ground, it doesn’t really work out for him. I taught him a bunch of tricks and I make everyone who comes over watch him. He can sit, shake with both hands, drop, crawl, and if you put your fists up and say “FIGHT!” he will box with you. Husband found out that if you lay on the floor with him, he will lick your face for 15 minutes without a break. The dog that is, not Husband. Boy dog has a curly piggy tail and most of the time, is pretty unaware of it. However, if you straighten it out and show it to him, he will chase it madly until it curls up again and he promptly forgets it ever existed.
He loves me more than husband, which makes me incredibly happy. He’s pleasant and fuzzy and warm and is perfectly content to sleep on my stomach while I read. He follows me from room to room and will guard my feet from his position directly on top of them. I don’t ever have to clean up after him, because he’s particular about where he goes to the toilet. He didn’t wee for the whole drive from Melbourne to Sydney, even when we stopped every hour and walked him through grass. When we finally hit our destination, and put down newspaper, you could almost see the look of relief on his little squashed face.

Small girl dog is not so particular. She came into my life in March of this year. She has been nicknamed many things, among them fart-face, little vom-vom and ninja pooper. She is honestly, the most disgusting dog I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She burps, she farts noxious gases that can clear a room in 10 seconds, poops more frequently than a binge eater with laxatives and eats her food so fast, it makes her sick, so she throws up and then eats it too fast again, so throws it up and then finally manages to eat it the third time. She has been known to eat poop, both her own and that of the small boy dog. You don’t want kisses from small girl dog. She’s lucky she’s so damn cute, or I’d have sold her ages ago. When the dogs took sides, small girl dog took Husbands side, which is ok with me. My special muffin headed dog is elevently three million times better behaved and a whomping great forty seven bajillion times cleaner and less stinky than she is. She’s also stubborn. Oh, is she stubborn! You can call her til your voice gives up and she won’t come unless she wants to. She’ll sit if she thinks there’s food involved. She can shake, but only with one hand and again, only when she wants to and when there’s a possibility of food. You have to tap her leg all the time and say “SHAKE!” but most of the time she tilts her head up and away and ignores you perfectly.

She has an incredible sense of smell and I have found her more than once licking containers inside the recycling basket. She can hear a packet open from the end of the back yard. She’s hard headed and trundley. She’s the boss and she knows it. In the mornings when I wake up and go see them and let them outside she wags her little nubby tail and jumps all over me. If I’m ever sick, she scratches and whines at the door and shoves her head in the gap trying to get to me because she worries. Husband won’t hold my hair back or pat me, but small girl dog will curl up on my lap and  cock her head and give conciliatory licks on the shin.

I love those tiny weird little creatures with my whole heart. I want to squeeze them so hard their little eyes pop out more than they already do. They make every single bad day okay again. When you feel like the world is a shitty place and that you’re struggling just to achieve basic tasks because people seem to be put in your way just to fuck with you, go and get sneezed on by a flat faced dog, watch it chase it’s curly piggy tail. Be jumped on with such joy and excitement it’s barely containable and watch a stocky little bitch wag her nub at you. Cuddle them, get covered in hair and licks and paw prints. Chase them around the yard, teach them a trick, blow raspberries on their warm hairless puppy bellies. Love them, because they love you and I guarantee that if you have something broken inside you, they’ll fix it.