Bonnie Belle wouldn't move off the couch. She'd lived too long to be denied.
Plus she was just cute.
I am beginning to understand that I could easily become a purse dog person.
Please don't be offended if you currently have a teacup dog in your handbag.
There's something so portable about a smaller dog. I truly enjoyed being able to bathe Bonnie without a forklift or a garden hose. I loved how she never brought home large unidentifiable bones from the woods across the road. And I liked having her on the front seat of the Suburban as we went to town. She asked so politely for treats at the coffee drive-through. She never pulled on the leash and she usually didn't smell too eau de dog like some other outdoorsy canines I've known.
And don't tell anyone but I kinda liked watching a movie with a dog by my side on the sofa. It turns out I'm not so much the go-out-and-play-ball kind of dog owner but rather the sit-by-the-fire-and-read kind of dog owner. You know, where a dog appreciates good literature and is basically a cat with a wagging tail who (bonus!) doesn't get on the counters.
Recently I got in big trouble, and by that I mean Luuuu-ceeeEE, for attempting to rescue yet another and even smaller spaniel. But who could blame me? (My long-suffering husband, apparently.)
I'm on dog begging hiatus. There's an amendment to our pre-nup and everything. (Joking! Joking!)
But I miss Bonnie Belle. She went to puppy heaven far too soon. The fact that it coincided with postpartum whatever notwithstanding, I'd love to love another Bonnie Belle. (I was planning on naming the new spaniel "Maybelline.")
We will likely have a large, farm- and ranch-appropriate dog again. Don't get me wrong; I did love Jake with all my heart. That was a DOG. All Golden Retriever and golden boy, he was a great, athletic, supersmart dog's dog. Police officers were known to compliment him (and my husband) on Jake's manners. Heeling without a leash? No problem. Saving random children's pool noodles from the treacherous lake wakes? He was on it. Command of "sit," "stay" and "spot" in three languages? That was one smart dog. (Plus he hardly ever got on the couch unless he was sure we weren't coming home before he could vacuum it off.)
Our next dog may be another Golden and may be a Bernese Mountain Dog (even bigger and doggier I'm sure). But there will always be a place in my heart for the little Springer Spaniels and the way they look like they're straight out of a Dick and Jane reader. It's a simpler, gentler dog. Mostly understanding only single-syllable words. But still.