It's apparent to me, for the first time ever in my relationships with canines, that my dog has attached himself to the males in the house. It's them he adores. Me? I may be the one who feeds him twice a day, and I may be the one who remembers to buy him his favorite treats (Frosty Paws) at the store, but I am not the one for whom he would take a bullet. That honor belongs to the man, any man, of the house. I picked him out of the pack of abandoned Dobermans and rescued him from a life of woe. I took him to the vet for a look-see and shots, I cover him with a blanket when he shivers on cold nights, and I buy him all of his visits to Camp Bow Wow so he can lord it over other dogs. How does he repay my demonstration of love? With devotion to men.
Last night, Leo completely lost his mind when at about midnight, my son showed up with two of his friends and the three of them took over the basement. They camped out here so they could all take off at the crack of dawn to drive to State College, Pennsylvania for the Michigan/Penn State game tonight. I hope they got some sleep because I don't think the dog did. In fact, he got a lot of exercise running between my husband who was upstairs and the young men camping in the basement about 800,000 times last night. He took complete joy in jumping on the air mattresses and distributing his happiness amongst them. He came upstairs to see me once and only because I asked if he wanted a cookie.
Apparently, I'm completely superfluous to this dog.
If you watch the game tonight (8 PM), look for three handsome young men clad in maize and blue. They'll be holding their one friend's over-sized image which is glued to a stick. He was unable to make it to the game and these guys don't go to any Michigan game without Trevor.