Friday, December 7, 2012

Bradley & Babs

Okay, so I meant to blog more often.  However, the one thing I want to blog about... I CAN'T.  Not yet.  And that's all my fault.  But yeah.

This will have to do instead.

It's no secret that I love my husband (this can be the assumed reasoning behind me marrying him, essentially), but one thing I've always adored about him in our almost six years of knowing each other--and our one year of marriage--is that he's great with animals.

When I was little, I totally was obsessed with animals.  In fact, I'd get myself in a lot of allergic reactions just for the mere purpose of being near and touching an animal.  I once had my knees swell up to the size of balloons when I got too cozy with a llama at the petting zoo at Thanksgiving.  (It's alright, I got a Benadyrl and a legit bottle of root beer from the first aid office for it.)

I'm surprised that when I expressed to my mom that I wanted to be a veterinarian that she didn't point out that I got a runny nose and swollen body parts every time I touched an animal.  That's love, letting me live out that fantasy!  Luckily for my mom, when I figured out that one part of being a vet was shoving my hand up an animal's behind that profession wasn't so attractive anymore.

BUT STILL.  Even though I don't love animals enough to put my hand in their hiney, I do still looove them.  All forms.  But especially cats, dogs, and chickens.  Yes, chickens.  But this story isn't about chickens.  It's about a dog, a dog named Babs.  And her boy-toy, Bradley.

Babs is my family's golden retriever and she is truly the sweetest dog in the world.  She's also the dumbest.  And perhaps the strangest.  But we love her!  She even has a mexi-stache, LOVE IT.  But you know what she loves?  Brad.  Yeah, my husband.  She adores him.  Just the slight of him makes her wag her tail.  I have to give her a hot dog to make that happen.

The picture above is Brad and Babs having a staring contest (Babs lost, she's a compulsive winker, always flirting) after a run around the backyard.

Brad is so sweet to her, and let me tell you... she smells.  As dog's do, and yet Brad still gives her a little lovin'.  But Babs is just a smelly gal who can't get no man.  Yet, she's still hopeful!  Every time Brad and I kiss in front of her she comes rushing off her dog pad to stick her nose between us.  Maybe one day, Babs.  Maybe one day.

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