He loves me? He loves me not! HE LOVES ME!!!
November 22, 2008 – 4:13 pmIs there really a girl out there who doesn't wonder, does he REALLY love me?
I know I do. Like when he isn't as affectionate as I want him to be. Or when he just doesn't seem to want me on the phone.
Sometimes, we need a little reminder that he cares.
Two nights ago, the fiance did something that made me forget all the missed hugs and kisses. He showed me that he truly cares.
The fiance's act of love all started when the rotten dog decided to have an adventure.
See, the dog's heart belongs to a wily armadillo. When the armadillo is around, the fiance and I disappear from the dog's life. He no longer comes. He no longer cares. He just chases armadillo.
The fiance tries ever so hard to tempt the dog back to the house but this usually ends in curse words and a throwing up of hands. He then leaves the dog outdoor alone and returns to the warmth of the fireplace.
Two nights ago, said scenario had just played out. As per usual, once John has given up, it is left to me to try, try, try again.
Off to the yard I went.
I called. I looked. But I saw no dog.
And then I heard it. I heard him trudging through the limbs and water that is the swamp behind our house.
John, I said, the dog isn't in the backyard anymore. Sure he is, he replied. No, seriously. I can hear him behind the fence.
On go the shoes and out comes the flashlight. I walked to the last spot I saw him and, sure enough, he'd dug his way under the wood. (Which, by the way, goes like a foot into the ground. I don't get why he just doesn't go under the chain link that borders the rest of the yard instead. Stupid dog.)
After much calling, and hemming and hawing, and freaking out, and tons of "YOU'VE JUST GOT TO GO GET THE DOG!!!", the fiance slapped on the boots and headed for the swamp.
And this is how I know he loves me. If I weren't there, that man would have left that dog out there to rot.
He didn't go get him because he loves the dog. He trudged through cold nasty water, rusty trash dumped long ago and gnarly branches so that I would feel better (and so he wouldn't have to hear me freaking out all night about it. But hey, whatever.)
In the end, we got the dog back, filthy but back. He'd cornered the armadillo under a barrel near a shed on our neighbors property.
When the boys returned, I couldn't help but wrap my arms around that man and tell him just how wonderful he really is.
John still calls it the night the dog decided to go on an adventure. I call it the night John reminded me that he'd do almost anything to keep me happy.
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