Sign of Love

After a couple of long nights up with my mom, who is newly recovering from her knee replacement surgery, my dog Mayzie and I are tired. Pooped.  But both of us know that staying up with her late at night is exactly where we need to be and we are happy to do it. 

Mayzie's unfailing call to duty and unconditional love is more than that of a dog. 

She displays the simplest and purest of loves. And that love forces me to realize something.

When we first got her as a little puppy, I was an excited grade schooler, ready to have the perfect golden retriever puppy. Because then she would turn into the perfect dog.  She would never get sick or misbehave or make me mad. She would be perfect.

But here she is, nine years later.

And she is far from perfect.  She has calluses on her rear.  She has bad breath.  She is very lumpy.  She sometimes smells funny. She likes to chew apart stuffed toys.  She has a very short attention span.

And because of all of that, because of the countless late nights and imperfect moments, she has become the perfect dog.  And she has inspired the best of loves within me.

I love her, lumps bumps burps and all.

So while my mom is recovering from her knee surgery, Mayzie and I are going to be patient.  We are going to be helpful. And we are going to remind her that we love her, swollen lumps late nights and many ice packs later.

It is more than a sign of family. It is a sign of love.