There's a Metaphor in Here Somewhere...

Geneva, our middle dog, has some odd habits. Most of which are easy to explain away. She is terrified of lightening and fireworks because she used to be homeless. Being stuck outside, starving and frightened during a storm is sufficient cause for neuroses. I've developed them for less!

But then there is the issue with the snuggly. And I don't really get it. She absolutely loves it when I buy her a sheepskin from IKEA to snuggle. She doesn't step away from it for days. And when she is not sleeping on it she carries it around like a baby. She will put it down where she wants to be and sleep right there. She does not share.

Her love and devotion lasts about a week.

Which is when Neve starts in with the plucking. She will sit and pull every hair out of the leather. When she starts to worry that someone will notice the bald hide ('cause the tufts of creamy wool all over the place didn't tip us off), she sits and waits for the door to open and runs outside to get rid of it. For another week or so she will occasionally visit it in whatever deep pit she has left it in. But eventually one of us finds it and throws it away.

And as soon as it is in the garbage she starts looking at me like, "Um...Alpha? Do you know how uncomfortable it is to sleep at your feet and adore you from this hardwood floor?"

Something in her Wolf Brain snaps. It goes from, "I love you, I love you, I love you...." to "I EAT YOU!"

And then, as if she doesn't even remember the eating part,

she misses the love.