Nice doggie

Day 1.

The dog snarls.

Joy has entered the living room from the front of the house. She is standing in front of Lucy’s crate. Apparently Lucy does not like people entering the crate area from the foyer. I make a mental note.

“Joy,” I say. “Freeze. Leave it.” I’m suddenly talking to my toddler like she’s a dog.

I scoop up Joy and take her back to the foyer, then down the hall. To the kitchen.

“Let’s have some kernpop, Joy.”

We have our snack.

I have become a dog whisperer. When one of the Dogues de Bordeaux gets up from their mat, I whisper to Deb, “Oh my god. It’s coming over here. What should we do?”

“Maya is fine. She loves people.”

Day 2.

Deb is on the floor petting both massive dogs. I back away.

“Be careful.”

Joy trips over the floppy feet of her overlarge 4T onesie and falls, her face suddenly just inches from one of the dogs. I can’t tell them apart. (The twin dogs, I mean; not the dog and Joy.)

Joy smiles. The dog looks at her with that bored look. Oh my.

“Joy. You’re fine, I say. “Just back away slowly.”

Joy pats the dog and pads down the hall.

Day 3… to come.

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