This Twisted Game of Fetch

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This is Miss Sophie.  Miss Sophie and her “baby.” She has several–the blue lion, the monkey, the little squirrels in their tree, but this–THIS ONE–is her favorite.  I know they say dogs can’t see color, but my girl is very partial to pink.  There’s no explaining it, it just is.  She loves her pink baby, which is actually her second pink baby.  The first one I have tucked away in a special place because I JUST COULDN’T, y’all–it was her precious “I’m so tiny and I love this thing” first pink baby.  But she loved its stuffing out.  And so, this is number two.

It looks nasty.  Even after I wash it.  And sometimes it’s doesn’t smell so good.  But still, Miss Sophie loves her baby.  When I invite her to jump up on the couch and curl up with me, she looks and then runs off and gets her baby and comes back to snuggle.

She loves her babies.

She also loves for us to throw her baby for her to fetch sometimes.  You’ll know this is what is going on when she comes over with it in her mouth, bumping it against my leg, causing the squeaker to go off constantly.  Yes, she definitely wants me to throw it.

However.

She won’t let go of it, y’all.  It’s something of a game for her.  “Please throw this for me so I can run like mad to get it and bring it back to you for you to throw again.”  The only thing is that when I reach to take the baby from her, she won’t let go.  Sometimes she will drop it, and when I go to pick it up, turns out that is part of the game too, and she snaps it back up.

Ahh.  I see what you did there, Miss Sophie.

Please take this from me, but don’t make me let go of it.

But–

I do this too.

I whisper this to the universe–please, please take this away…..only don’t.  I can’t let it go. Not just yet.  But please…..really.  Take it.  

So it turns out this life of mine is a version of Miss Sophie’s twisted game of Fetch.

No wonder she and I get each other.  This life is hard sometimes.

And that’s when a nap on the couch curled up with someone who understands is definitely called for.

BYOB.

(bring you own baby)

Wishing you all someone who gets you and will keep on hanging out with you.  Even when you can’t let go.

Especially then.

Love to all.

 

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