It’s so strange having a dog with a box of rocks for brains, and a dog too smart for his own good.
Sammie just sort of lumbers around, stares at walls, makes weird noises. When he wants to eat he becomes Chewbacca. When he wants to play he slams his giant paws on the ground and turns into a mouthy Chewbacca.
The Captain, on the other hand, is rude. When he wants attention he shoves his face into yours, he pulls a pathetic, sad face if you ignore him. He nests. When he’s ready to sleep he turns and turns and turns, pawing at blankets until he’s ok with it. He’s dramatic. He will stick close to the house when it’s raining to avoid being rained on. He’s sweet and empathetic. A raised voice, even a little one (like when I couldn’t figure out what was happening with my computer and declared “what the heck?”) he panics and curls up on my lap.
The Captain has saved me many times from hating life. He’s perfect, despite all his terrible manners. He’s testament to rescuing dogs. This one, I just knew. From the moment I saw him online, to visiting him at the shelter, to the day I brought him home, to the moment he cuddled and endeared himself to me.
I like Sammie. I do. But there’s something about The Captain that melts my heart every time I just think about him.
Heartfelt Ramblings 