Loving Bela is now the largest common thread between Mike and me. We like to cook, we like the Bulls, we like to play games. But we love Bela. We love to touch her, feed her, observe her, play with her, talk to her, talk about her... She has become the center of our bed and our world. He is cast in a beautiful light as her father; I hope there is a similar halo about me.
There is no time I cannot melt when she is referred to. When we can't see eye to eye - we talk about her poo.
She's like glue.
She's a reminder of sowing what you reap. An example of what we are both capable of bringing out in someone.
Mike's mother states that when she dies, she wants to come back as our dog. Something so treasured, so revered, so very well taken care of.
As odd as it may seem, Bela is a reflection of us.
When I peer into her pretty eyes, I should feel more than an outward love for her. I should feel pride at what I've helped to create. I should see evidence of what two people's love can manifest.
Our love for her can bring us to our knees.
It is strong and unbending, stable, unending.
It is all that I heard love was supposed to be.
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