My first Christmas with Mugsy.

My 120-pound furry rock of love is my dog Mugsy.  Yes I adore my dog but she is a dog.  I don’t carry her around in a purse, really she wouldn’t fit in some of the largest bags of luggage.  I am not the crazy dog mom who dresses her in sweaters and t-shirts the extra large size doesn’t fit.  I am a proud mamma and show off her pictures whenever anyone shares pictures of their kids.  So I am a bit obsessed and hopelessly in love with my furry bear.  I have never had the opportunity to share the holidays with her.  Being married and living away from both families we traveled every Thanksgiving and Christmas.   If you know me at all you already know how much I love spending time with family at the holidays but every year I felt torn.  We were either with his family or my family and Mugsy along with the cats were home.   I wanted to be in all three places at the same time.  This year while I do miss his family and I would love to be with his daughter, I didn’t feel torn.  I was with my family and Mugsy.  I was right where I was supposed to be.   Mugsy has been at my side for almost every moment of the challenges I have faced through this last year.   Those first weeks of devastation of my altered marriage and then the affair she sensed my emotional frailty.  In those first few weeks whenever we were in the same place, she either leaned against me or rested her paw or head on me to let me know she was silently there.  In the face of such intimate betrayal she provided unconditional love, okay not quite unconditional she wanted food, water, walks and belly rubs.  But never the less it was a bond that I have cherished through these last few months.  She didn’t judge the tear filled nights, the moments of sheer anger, the overwhelming bewilderment that continuously brought me to the kitchen, bedroom, yard or bathroom having no idea why I entered the room in the first place.  Mugsy managed moving states, a new home, a new dog walker, new dog parks, a new work schedule and every night hops into bed to snuggle no matter where or what time we get there.  Mugsy’s breathe in your face can be a powerful motivator to get out of bed in the morning, especially in those early days of sorrow.  At least if I didn’t brush my teeth first thing for those early morning walks, I knew hers was worse.  As that sorrow changed to anger she would run, alright jog or walk any distance I needed that day.  When it comes to our outings at 120 pounds and part stubborn bulldog, she usually calls the shots on where and how far we go, even when supplied with bacon.  She sensed my moods and kept me moving on the days I needed it most.  I know she is just a dog but she has been my silent, sweet, tail wagging, furry, giant of unconditional love.  Today on Christmas she was always in someone’s way, breathing her gross breathe in someone’s face, leaning or stepping on someone and loving every minute of being with the family.   Today my heart wasn’t torn wanting to be in three places but grew three times knowing I was right where I was meant to be with Mugsy and my family.