Signs of life.

We must have left this ball outside last night. It had been in the mouth of a dog, carried like a trophy. Understandably, it was dropped when a certain, very special human arrived last night to retrieve their most beloved canine family member. Instead of feeling shame at my unkempt yard, this bright little orb brought a little feeling of pride. A dog was happy in my home and that is a good thing, unquestionably. My bath tub is filled with short, black hairs from a dog bath. Trails of kibble line our carpet because two dogs are here today with Bella and I and they both prefer to pick up their food by mouth and move it to be eaten later. Our couch is wholly unavailable. Two cushions are filled with clean clothes to fold and the other three are shared between dogs, taking up just enough space to not touch each other but also allow no room for a human to sit. Another is napping beneath the foot rest of the recliner I’m currently sitting in. The back door is open and leaves have blown in and scattered throughout the kitchen. Water puddles are shimmering and slowly oozing with the tilt of our house, the evidence of overzealous bouts of guzzling post play. My house is a mess, because this house is being actively lived in and loved in. I’m going to try and keep that ball in my in my mind today, all these little signs around my home, because they aren’t little, not really.


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