Puddles and Dog Cuddles

sweater: thrifted (f21)        blouse: f21        jeans: GAP          bag: thrifted          shoes: f21

I’m concerned. Like genuinely concerned that if we were to have a child instead of a dog right now, that said child would be deceased, like for reals. Because here’s the thing. Sir Matt, he loves to rough house with the Indian. Like they get into some serious heavy duty brawls. He’s swinging her around on tug ropes, throwing balls as hard as he can and she’ll catch them right in her mouth (how does she have teeth still?), and the thing is that she loves it. SHE LOVES IT! When we walk in the door after work she’s tugging on Sir Matt’s jeans, trying to rile him up and get him to rough house. She can’t get enough! So anyways, the other day we’re at the park, and we’re throwing rocks for Indie into the river (guys I have to get this on video tape because it’s just too good) and Matt takes this huge rock, launches it into the river and Indie leaps out right in front of it like she’s going to catch it in her mouth. Oh my heart it hurts, and well you know the rest and how rocks and jogs jumping in front of them go. She’s okay, she needed a lot of cuddles and that girl let out a whimper that could break a girls heart. But I think Matt got the worst of the pain. I gave him a stern talking to with lots of ,”When we have kids….” And “You can’t always be this rough, SOMEONES GOING TO DIE!” and, “OUR CHILDREN WOULD BE DEAD IF WE HAD ANY RIGHT NOW!!!” okay okay, so a teensy bit dramatic no? Matt of course felt terrible, the Indian and him are thick as thieves. But after all of my scolding he just looked at me and said, “Sarah, do you honestly think I’m going to be throwing rocks into rivers for my children to go fetch…..Sarah, she’s a dog. Obviously we’re going to have different activities.” I gave him the stink eye of course, because I mean, she’s my little Indian and obviously I’m just a big giant mother hen, and also I just really like being right and I wanted to be right dang it! But the boy had a point I suppose. I take one thing away from this story, if you have a husband that throws rocks in rivers and expects your babies to go fetch them…you gotta get that guy snipped. THE END.