Sometimes it happens. It’s some kind of stringy thing, usually a piece of grass or hair, but with some dogs, like Lenore, it can be almost anything. And this is one of the many beautiful things about the man I married. He’s not the kind of guy who yells at a dog when she’s throwing up on the carpet (I never could understand that, as if the dog is vomiting on purpose) or gets mad if he finds a load of diarrhea in the living room first thing in the morning. He just lets the dog out and cleans up the mess.
So this morning, as we were sitting on the screened-in porch eating breakfast, and Jon saw Lenore taking a dump on the front lawn (not where she usually goes) I just looked away. “Not something I need to watch while I’m eating breakfast” I said. But Jon was concerned,he immediately noticed that something was wrong, Lenore was struggling. Then she starts scooting around in a squat trying to rid herself of a long stringy thing. And there goes Jon, leaving breakfast on the table, with a paper towel in hand, to the rescue. I still didn’t watch as he pulled out the piece of grass ( or whatever) that was causing Lenore so much trouble. But I fell in love with Jon once again.
Most of the men I’ve known in my life would have just been pissed off that the dog dumped on the lawn. I know it may be a strange thing to love someone for, but every time Jon doesn’t get mad about something (that would have been a nightmare/drama with most other men I’ve known and which in my opinion is stupid to get mad about) I love and appreciate him more and more.