If you're new around here, let me take a moment to introduce my first born. While not my biological child, this fur baby we call Henry was perhaps my first real love. For many years I happily referred to him as my soul mate. In terms of dogs, you just can't get much better:
He's a love. He's protective; but only when he needs to be. He's easy. He naps and chills. He's active; when you are. He's wrinkly and just a tad bit ugly, in the cutest way possible. He's cuddled me through Sunday Scaries. He was my baby when I struggled to be a mom.
And he's patient. Boy, is he patient. And for the last year or so he's been OK with taking a back seat to our little girl. As growing pains of new motherhood made me forgetful- to eat, to bathe, to fold the laundry, and yes, to feed my dog- this sweet pup never showed an ounce of resentment. Not towards me. Not towards his little sister. And when the haze of sleepless nights and cutting teeth lifted, he was there to cuddle and love us with open paws, as if nothing had changed.
I guess that's just what soul mates are made of.