My parents have a home that has a lovely pool. That pool was a whopping 80 degrees this weekend, so we enjoyed it with abandon.
And by we, I fully mean me, my fiance, my parents, and Barnaby. (Wes, not so much).
Barnaby LOVES to swim.
He looks like a drowned rat, he swims like he was not born part dachshund, and he goes absolutely nuts for floaties: Noodles, The ones you lay in and sunbathe with, paddleboards… you name it, if it floats, Barnaby wants it to be his and only his. He’ll swim right to it, right on top of it, balance on it, jump off and do it all over again, for hours if we’d let him. But then…something snaps. Something snaps inside his tiny little brain and he goes nuts, and with a deluge he loses all his marbles-he barks and whines, and cries-CRIES like I have never heard before. The poor floatie has no idea how much it is LOVED, if it only knew it would love him back, he swears it. He pines for the floatie, doesn’t understand why it always LEAVES HIM BEHIND…my poor, sad little boy just wants some floatie love but the only way to end the sadness is to completely remove the thing he pines for. The only way to remove his heartache is to, sadly, break his heart completely.
“If it only knew it would love him back, he swears it.”
Out of sight and out of mind, my marble-less love can return to normalcy. And with a bath and a full belly, his unrequited love is forgotten until the next time the lovely pool beckons. Duhnuh, duhnuh, dunnununuh!!!!